Optio
by Ripsi
Summary: As the cheers of other tenants roared on through the night I stood there on the day of January 1, 2001 with Albert Wesker smiling up at me. Mortal. "Felix sit Annus Novus, Claire."
1. Annus Novus

A/N: I was up the other night, although I had been considering this before, and I thought about Wesker being helpless, weak, and in need of help from someone who he knew no one would expect him to turn to. I don't know how many people have done a story about a helpless Wesker, except one other author that I know of. But even though I've got AVC going (I will not abandon it) and TGOE on hold for… a long while more, I just want to do it before I forget. There was a good Kick/Chris conversation I had in my head one night along with some good scenarios and I thought I'd remember them, then… woke up and had no idea what I had in my head. So I should start on this so that I can get it out before it escapes me.

Basically I want a Wesker who needs help, but he still has to have his same attitude despite the pickle he's in. And his character is hell to pin down seeing as Resident Evil isn't a show and the Code Veronica book to me didn't exactly mirror his character in the games; for example, in my Inuyasha fic, I have the characters down because there are so many episodes and so much to go off of. It's so easy to just write down what the character would actually say in the show if they were in the situations I put them in, in my story. I will admit it's been a struggle to capture his character and be constant in writing it. Claire can be difficult as well because she confuses me; she's strong yet in Code Veronica she freaks out over seeing zombies after surviving hordes of them before.

I see her as soft, but her toughness seems like it's a pretense to me. It's like in the face of danger she will put on her game face and she will snap back at Wesker because he badmouths her brother or because Alfred is not intimidating at all. I don't want her to be pathetic so she will kind of be Wesker's equal in this fic which will help in portraying her as a strong person and she will prove her worth as a kind, forgiving human. So she's no victim, not trying to escape, not crying because she wants to go home, and she's not wishing upon a star for Chris to save her. I want her to have a choice, not to be around Wesker because she got herself infected or because he kidnapped her and she subsequently fell in love with him despite his flaws.

I give her the decision to walk out when she chooses and he cannot stop her. And she won't depend on him for anything at all. Originally I chose the title "Helpless" but not only does it infer that the characters are weak but there's a story with the name "Defenseless" and regardless of whether or not it's in another language I do not wish to step on toes, that story was up first and I'm glad I checked on the meaning of the word in Ultimolu's A/N for that story, and if you're reading this I love your work. : ). So I decided on "Choice" (something Claire has) in Latin however the context in which the word is used changes which word to use, I either wanted "abitratus" or "optio" and I chose the latter because it means both "choice" and "option" so I figure it will fit in with context in which I choose because she has the power and right to choose.

And I've decided to keep posting the character information: subject, location, and status (with a little more humor which means a wider range than fine, caution, and danger). Also I think I want this AU because this doesn't happen in the original story so sticking everything that happened in there would be difficult. I don't wanna change too much though, but things will definitely be different. I don't know all the details of BSAA and I haven't been able to remember all the RE history like I used to do. I want Claire in school; trying to get back a normal life where she's partying and being a college student when out of nowhere her life is once more invaded. She doesn't share the limelight in this fic with Kick so it'll be a lot of Claire and Wesker alone but I don't wanna ruin the story so I'll stop now.

Anyway, hopefully it doesn't bother the readers much when I deviate. So thank you if you're giving this a chance, hopefully you'll enjoy and review and I apologize for the long A/N, I just wanted to get my intentions across. Also, "Annus Novus," means New Year. Once again, if you're giving it a try, I sincerely thank you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. This fic is mine though. : p

Optio

Chapter 1: Annus Novus

December 31, 2000 11:03 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Unsure

Once again I was in big trouble. With unfocused eyes in the dimly lit hallway of my apartment complex, coupled with the unfortunate symptom of numb fingers I attempted to figure out which key was which. Bike, parents' cabin, and the other two keys on the ring had to have been the ones to my abode. I struggled with sticking the key in the lock, wrong door key, so I tried the next one and bingo. After struggling a bit with the lock over the doorknob I managed to tumble across the threshold, the sound of my boots against the wooden floor allowing me to hear just how ungraceful "Drunk Claire" was.

Tonight I was a pussy. On top of proclaiming (proudly might I add) that I was going home before midnight so that I would avoid passing out at Byron's house, I ended up puking after three shots of Vodka and four shots of Tequila. Usually I prided myself on drinking frat boys under tables but tonight I was sure to go down as the final person on the "Weenie List" of 2000.

I was back in college after deciding to live life up rather than chasing after Chris in his pursuit of justice, something he practically begged me to do after a break in at his apartment. To prove to him that I was done meddling in his affairs, I moved to Denver, hoping that a city like this could keep me entertained and out of trouble. Being twenty-one, I could legally drink, so that meant party, party, party and study, study. Although I still couldn't help but worry about how Chris was doing, and I chalked it up to how overprotective I became after the incidents in… I couldn't even say it anymore.

Every shadow in the night was cast by Umbrella, every creak in the floorboards was a monster, and every dream I had was about my failure to save someone who saw me decent enough that his dying action was to sacrifice his life for my own. Sometimes drinking is what kept me from losing it, yet I couldn't bear to immerse myself in alcoholism to escape what I needed to remember. And I needed to remember so that I could truly heal some day, but sometimes I needed to forget…

It took so much more will than usually needed to close the door, lock it, and secure the chain. Once I completed that task in the dark, I did a one-legged hop in a pathetic attempt to remove my brown boots that had been through hell and back along with me, and I actually fell trying to remove the one that stubbornly stayed on my left foot.

Then I was struggling with my jeans while on the floor, apparently my struggle with the evil denim had caused quite a commotion because the tenant below me began banging the ceiling with his broom. Old bastard. I decided to keep on my red sweater since my arms got cold during the night, however the tequila I'd ingested earlier had me burning up, but the heater had gone off in here at some point so I knew I'd need more than a quilt and sheet tonight. I can't remember if I crawled to the bed or what, just that I hit the mattress pretty hard without caring if I actually broke it. I just accepted the embrace of darkness, pulling me under into a sleep that I thought couldn't even be disturbed by the ringing in of the new year.

December 31, 2000 11:45 PM

I don't know what woke me up, or why I even felt compelled to get up out of my bed. Sobriety had been progressing during my slumber, which made me glad I threw up earlier, but I still felt slightly woozy. A piercing silence had settled in my apartment, the kind that kept you alert because it was too silent to be normal, almost like it was forced. My hand searched underneath the cool side of the pillow my head rested upon, and I soon found the hilt of the combat knife I kept stored. I was supposed to be calmer now that I was back in college, however, someone had tried breaking into my home one night, but lucky for me the rusty fire escape ruined his plan of covertness.

Fearing that haste would create the slightest rustle I slowly slid the blade from beneath the pillow, sitting up on my elbow I moved at a snail's pace just in case the coils of my mattress betrayed me. My socks were still on my feet, smothering any sounds that may have alerted anyone to me being awake as I crept on the balls of my feet. How strange I must have looked right now: a red sweater, black g-string, and black socks. Oh yeah, I was sure to intimidate the hell out of anyone who dared to trespass. Speaking of appearances my ponytail barely existed anymore and the band that had secured it earlier was threatening to fall off, but I couldn't be worrying myself about whether or not I was fashionable during a possible break-in (though my hair was now down my back which could have been a detriment in a struggle).

As I reached the living room, despite being a little tipsy still, I remembered that it would be foolish to flick on the lights, because if anyone else was in here neither of us would be able to see. I knew this place like the back of my hand, paranoia being the reason why I walked around blind-folded until I did when I got this place almost three years ago. The couch, coffee table, and television were to my left, while the door was to my right. On the side of the couch was my only other escape, the window that led to the fire escape which I viewed as a huge danger when I first looked at this place. With the misadventure Chris claimed was "cooking" when he visited last spring, I began to see the value in it once I considered that it could have been the only way out once the fire extinguisher failed.

And that memory brought me to remember the importance of owning great kitchen utensils, some including hooks on the end. A butcher knife could also come in handy assuming an intruder was dumb enough to not search for and hide them.

Failing to see anyone I crept to the center of the room without even the light of the moon to help; my curtains were doing their job for once, but now wasn't the time I needed them to. Of course it would not just be advantageous to me if there was a sliver of light shining through the window, so I would simply make do and try to see if I could feel another presence.

I wasn't alone.

I heard the floorboards creak behind me, and trusting in the Redfield luck people claimed Chris and I possessed I spun around, slashing the knife through the air. My attacker, a figure hidden by the darkness caught my arm and twisted it behind my back, and the knife fell to the floor. The hilt hit the wood so hard that it created a thumping noise that should have awakened Mr. Sidorov, and if it did then hopefully he would reach for the phone and call the police (with my luck he'd reach for the broom). Before I could scream a cool, leather glove clamped over my mouth, rendering me mute.

A whisper that bordered on a hiss uttered a familiar phrase, and despite my grunting I could make out the words that had interrupted my progress on Rockfort. The words of a ghost. "The lovely Claire Redfield."

A shrill cry was muffled by the glove and I struggled against his grasp, picking up my leg and swinging it back into his crotch as hard as I possibly could. Never had I considered trying this on him, but if the man shrugged off steel beams to the head like they were headaches I doubted that my attempt to slow him down would work.

To my surprise he cried out in pain, trying his hardest to keep the volume of his voice to a minimum as he released me to grab hold of his injured genitals. I would snicker about that later. Catching myself on the palms of my hands I immediately began scrambling for the door on all fours, hearing Mr. Sidorov banging the broom against his ceiling.

"MR-" Before I could finish my attacker grabbed me by the ankle and tried to drag me back to the middle of the room, but I put my legs to use again. With my mouth twisted into a snarl I bent my left knee, twisted around until I was on my back and pulled my leg back until it reached my abdomen. With a grunt of exertion I kicked him in the head as hard as I could, and since his shades clattered to the floor I assumed I got him right in the nose, although it was hard to tell with the lack of lighting. Albert Wesker screamed once more (shocking me yet again) as he cupped both hands over his nose and toppled over the stand next to my couch, the lamp crashing noisily to the floor.

Quickly, before he could regain his composure I knocked over the umbrella bin next to the closet by the door and felt around for the 9mm I kept in case of emergencies, flicking on the light as I neared the blond. Gun aimed at his head, I stared down into his blue eyes with the intent to shoot if he so much as smirked at me.

Wait. Blue eyes?

Once more the elderly Russian man downstairs began banging his ceiling with the butt of his broom. "Shut the fuck up you whore!"

Really Mr. Sidorov?

The hue of Wesker's eyes still had my attention though, but only until the sight of his bleeding nose actually caused me to drop my weapon. Never had I seen Albert Wesker bleed.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat that was part confusion and part rage, I managed to finally catch my breath and throw him a good scowl. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

As he sat up on his own, once more surprising me by groaning in pain, I took a step back in case this was some kind of a trick. I heard him exhale sharply, grabbing his nose in both hands. In one quick, simultaneous movement he jerked his hands to the side, getting the desired effect and sound of his nose being put back into place.

"Well dear heart, I see that you have not changed." Before he bent over to pick up the shades he'd lost, he threw me a smirk that almost made it seem as if he were approving of my decent defense.

Remembering who I was dealing with, I aimed the gun at him once more, my eyes not leaving him even to see how far away I'd caused his shades to fly. With as much dignity as ever, the blond placed the glasses back on his face, having been done so many times that he even made that seem as though it was an art that required much training to acquire the same grace and poise. "I'll repeat myself," I warned before reiterating with much more emphasis, "_What the fuck are you doing in my house?_"

His smirk remained, however it felt awkward that Wesker had yet to slap me across the room, he'd done so for much less: for asking what he was going to do to my brother being just a small example to throw out there.

"Miss Redfield. I have come to make a deal with you, and you may choose to accept, or decline."

For the first time since I knew it was him I felt like all the blood had rushed from my face, something that usually happened as soon as I heard his voice, and this dread he had caused in me also made me remember what I was wearing (or not wearing). I jutted the gun towards him to show that my hostility was still burning strong towards him as I stepped back to the closet to pick up my jeans that I had discarded next to the door. As I juggled the tasks of aiming and sticking my legs into my pant legs I finally realized that I was a lot more sober thanks to the adrenaline rush brought on by this very unwelcomed visitor. I decided not to waste anymore time in struggling to zip up my jeans while he stood there smirking at the fact that he had caught me in my unmentionables. Of course it wasn't like that was on Albert Wesker's checklist.

1: Break into Claire's home.

2: Fight with her.

3: Check her out for as long as possible until she realizes she's half naked.

Then again, he could have been just that sick. At the thought of that I became even more enraged and once more jutted the gun in his direction, reclaiming my steps.

In mock surrender, he raised his hands until his long, slender middle fingers were level with the top of his head. "As I was saying," he began with his devilish smirk still held in place, "I would like to make a deal with you."

The first thing that came to my mind was exactly what came out of my mouth. "What have you done with Chris you son of a bitch?"

With a throaty chuckle he ridiculed my indubitably predictable response; his blatant indifference to the fact that I was the one with a weapon actually pissed me off, but despite my emotions being worn on my sleeve he was not dissuaded from acting as though he was the one with the upper hand. I assumed it was a part of his personality since the day the doctor slapped him on his pale, pompous ass.

His boots matched his usual attire of black, something I noticed as he stepped forward two steps, dropping his hands to his side, most likely to attempt at asserting dominance in the situation, something he did not possess at this time. "You assume this is about your brother, but it is not dear heart. Well," he said, ready to correct himself, "he is included if you are willing to comply.

My silence served as a signal for him to continue.

"There is a man who is after me; his name is of no importance as of now. He wishes me dead Miss Redfield. And he has at least half a year to accomplish this." A pause in between his sentences told me he wasn't certain of how long he had and that this was a mere estimation. "His window is slowly closing, and he has become desperate. I have come to you because he would not expect it."

I'd forgotten to blink once I caught on to what he was implying, and all this hinting was probably necessary; could you seriously see Albert Wesker asking me or anyone for that matter for help? "You want me to…"

He frowned once he realized that if I hadn't trailed off my reciting of the truth would have brought him great mortification. "I purchased some property a long time ago-"

Remembering that Wesker was in his early forties I interrupted with, "How long ago exactly?"

His brow furrowed even more in vexation at my outburst and I think he understood that I was making a crack at his age. Whatever, I was the one with the gun and I would turn the conversation whenever I saw fit. "As I was saying, I purchased some property in the woods some time ago in a small town named Red Lodge. He does not know this property exists, and I need you to accompany me. It has a very small population."

That meant that he needed a cover so that attention wouldn't be drawn to him. Small towns had very nosey neighbors, and from the look of disgust he gave when he said, "It has a very small population," I knew it was a bit hodunk for the tastes of Albert Wesker.

"So if I agree to accompany you what do I get?" I was saving the most important question for last, the question of why he needed somebody to escort him.

Slowly, the smirk returned, giving me a hint that this was would be a good trade. "I will help Chris in his pursuit to disestablish Umbrella."

His words made me gasp, my pink lips parted ever so slightly as I considered this arrangement, but his past loyalty to Umbrella still made me question why on earth he would want to bring down the pharmaceutical company. "Why would you want to do that?" I think that he actually needed Chris' help with that, not the other way around, but if he had the help of someone who knew the ins and outs then Umbrella could be taken down in a matter of days.

The blond pretended to look around my living room, the way he felt about his former place of employment probably couldn't be hidden by the shades which he had become accustomed to using as a mask. "I have my own reasons." Then with a sense of urgency his head snapped back in my direction. "Your answer, Miss Redfield?"

There was so much to consider, but apparently I had no time to think on it. If Chris knew that I was doing this he'd be pissed and feeling betrayed, and then to top it all off I would have employed the help of his worst enemy. I doubt he'd feel too happy to learn that what he thought he was doing of his own volition was actually a part of a much bigger gambit. I didn't have to do this, I'd received no threat from Wesker, and so this was entirely up to me. And if I agreed, then I wouldn't have to worry that much about my older brother as much, so it would be like I was doing this for him…

"What about my classes?" If I didn't go to school Chris would find out.

"Long distance learning and online classes, you have two weeks until the semester starts therefore enough time to change your schedule." He was right, and someone had been reading up on the school calendar. As I demonstrated my hesitance he said, "I will even take care of the expenses."

Magic words Wesker. I had wanted to pack on two more classes at least to get eighteen hours; me taking off that time to find Chris had hurt my education. And if I did online classes, wanting for nothing since Wesker was going to take care of everything, I would have so much study time and so little distractions that I should be able to pass with all A's. Yet, how would I be able to explain my absence to Chris?

"My brother-"

"Forward all calls to the cabin and should he wish to come out here we would simply have to send you back for the duration of his stay."

Oh yeah, he had thought this out. Now I had to know why. "Wesker?" I asked, finally setting the gun down on the coffee table to the left of him, and apparently my fearless action of walking so close to him surprised him. "Why do you need my help so badly?"

A blond eyebrow rose in thought, he cocked his head to the side, and then sat down on the red loveseat. "I supposed you should know this since we shall soon live together. This window I spoke of is why this particular man is after me because he is the one who opened it." I drew my eyebrows inward, realizing that was a lot of brow movement tonight.

The countdown started in a few of the apartments, and the patrons in the bar down the street joined in. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…

"Miss Redfield," he began, his sneer not as strong as usual, "I am human."

"Happy New Year!"

As the cheers of other tenants roared on through the night I stood there on the day of January 1, 2001 with Albert Wesker smiling up at me. Mortal.

"Felix sit Annus Novus, Claire."

A/N: It is short I know but I felt like the ending was good as that. I want to update soon so give me some feedback on this I mean I went through the trouble of actually finding out as much as our archaic computer would let me about Red Lodge, Montana. But make my day better, I've already thoroughly enjoyed two snowball fights which however my fiancé couldn't be here for. It's still funny. Ha! Snow in northern Louisiana in February!


	2. Domus

A/N: Thank you Naoko Suki, Polatrix, Skiptrix, aquacrow, Ilyse, Ari, Le Bijou, and Lady Snowstorm for reviewing and to those who added the story to their favorites and alert list and I hope this does keep you interested. I'm going to try to have fun with Claire and Wesker getting to know each other especially under different names. After all, learning to live with someone is supposed to be an adventure ;) The address is made up; I added the house in the woods thing for Wesker and his love of privacy. So of course he gets a private road. This is going to be a more moving and settling in chapter with awkward moments though.

Ilyse: Hopefully this is waaay better than my other Claire/Wesker fics. I even feel like the writing is definitely better, but as humans we always feel like we can do better I guess. And nice to hear from you again : )

Le Bijou: I know what you mean; I alternate so I would have to hope he caught me on a topless night lol. Then again if Wesker was sneaking into my house I'd definitely have a, dropped-my-weapon-let-me-_bend-over-and-get-it_ moment.

Ultimolu: YES. Wesker is human in this story; no it is _not_ a trick. I said he was going to need help and he does. Could you please explain to me how you're confused about that because if you are then there could be a few others who are as well and I was trying to make it clear that he is mortal? He states that he is human (which is why Claire managed hurt him and make him bleed) and if you are confused about how then some of that will be covered this chapter. It is not a trick because as I stated before, Claire has a choice in this matter, if he wanted to take her against her will he would have taken her already minus the pretense (so if it were a trick truly she would have no choice and my title would be misleading.) He chose Claire because his enemies would not expect it and who else would he turn to for help? Ada and any other of his allies are out of the question if Wesker is going for low-key. Claire has experience with dealing with corporations like Umbrella as I will mention in this chapter later and he certainly couldn't turn to others like Jill, Chris, or Barry when he has nothing to threaten them with (they'd shoot him on sight if they knew he was human or find a way to turn on him even if he did manage to threaten them with something). Hopefully this answers some questions though.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters.

Optio

Chapter 2: Domus

January 2, 2001 Tuesday 8:57 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Anxious

I found it hard to leave behind so much stuff, all the clothes I loved to wear and the things that were worn in to the point that I was comfortable in them. Wesker gave me a credit card though with a fake name in the bottom right hand corner, and instructed me to go online at a coffee shop or library and buy all new things to be shipped to a different address than the one we'd be headed to today but if it was going to make it there on time I was sure it had to be pretty close to where we were going. We had a nine hour drive ahead of us through Wyoming until we would reach a place I never even heard of until last night so believe me when I say his bill was going to be pretty high. Hopefully he hired someone to take a look at the place before we arrived because it was below freezing up there, although he told me that no one in the town had ever even seen him before which meant that we'd most likely walk into a cold home.

Who am I kidding, it was a house. And it would remain house for the duration of our stay because we were two people who didn't like each other, didn't trust each other, and therefore we'd bring no warmth to the residence. Being that it was a small town though (in the middle of God knows where) most likely we would be expected to throw a housewarming party for ourselves, giving the neighbors an excuse to nose around. That meant we'd need a cover… Uncle and niece? Step-father and step-daughter?

A small knock interrupted me, and I zipped up the red, rolling suitcase with black trim. Red was my favorite color by the way if it wasn't obvious enough, it brought out the highlights in my dark brown hair. Releasing a deep breath, I headed for the front door, carrying my suitcase by the strap; sometimes I think Alexei Sidorov listened for noise. I never understood why he was such an angry old man, but maybe he'd been in the military during the Soviet rule. As a soldier who knew what he had endured?

The soles of my brown boots were so worn that they barely made a sound as I walked over the wooden floor, and as soon as I opened the door Wesker ducked inside while some snow that managed to survive on his black, leather jacket finally began to melt. Though I wore a red poncho with small, black vertical stripes, my jeans and worn boots made me appear less formal than he did. He wore a black, turtleneck sweater that hid the now vulnerable flesh of his neck beneath his leather jacket, black slacks, and black dress shoes. At least _I_ didn't look suspicious.

While he looked over my attire I threw my hair up into a high ponytail, leaving a few strands out and making sure that my part was decent. He showed no emotion as he picked up my suitcase for me, not even bothering to see if I would reject his courtesy. We didn't really speak much after last night other than a few words before he handed me the credit card with instructions on how to buy a new wardrobe. Maybe he wanted to save it for once we were on the road. Downstairs there was a 7 series BMW Sedan, and since it was black I correctly assumed that it belonged to Wesker.

After unlocking the car he threw my luggage in the trunk and we got inside.

"That's a lotta buttons." The interior was black, and there was wooden paneling, the seats were heated (thank God), and there was plenty of space between Wesker and me. Though he was human for now, I really didn't want to piss him off during the ride. We were silent until we hit the interstate.

Staring at the road ahead, very mindful of the traffic, Wesker instructed, "Open the glove compartment."

I threw him a questioning glance before doing so, and inside along with little booklets and a black box that I ignored there were two wallets. Throwing another glance in his direction, I pulled them out slowly and set them on my lap before closing the compartment. One of the wallets was made of red leather, and since the other was black I assumed that one was meant for him. I flipped the red one open, seeing a picture of me along with all of my new information. It was a driver's license.

"Sara Ivanov?" I had taken offense to this; he hadn't even asked me what I wanted for my name to be. "First: How did you get this picture? Second: I'm Russian?"

"It was either that or LeBeau," he replied in a bored voice, completely ignoring my first question. "And you're not Russian you're American. Your parents are from St. Petersburg."

With a bratty scowl I decided to explore the contents of my new wallet, finding another one of those handy, black cards with my new name on the bottom and one thousand dollars. If this was his idea of pocket change I'd be Mother Theresa if he asked me to. Now that I knew my name I decided that I needed to get to know the man I'd be staying with.

"Jeffrey Saunders," I announced, laughing a little at that. Of course he did look a little like a Jeffrey, but the Saunders part was not very convincing. I deduced that I felt that way because I knew him, no one else did so they'd probably say to themselves that he looks exactly like a Jeffrey Saunders. I also noticed that he decided to put down forty as his age, no point in lying about that, although he could have gone for much younger.

To get my mind off of Wesker's looks I decided to start conversation about our residence. "So we're on Saunders Lane." A private road for a private person. "Where's that?"

Without pause he answered, maybe he was glad that I wasn't asking annoying or irrelevant questions. "Farther out in the town. The woods."

"Knowing you I have a feeling it'll be something… impressive."

And that's putting it lightly, I thought to myself. More than likely the place would be grandiose, gargantuan, vast, choose an adjective.

"Miss Ivanov," he began, smirking at his opportunity to call me by the fake name, "We may be moving to the sticks but that does not mean that _we_ shall live like…"

"Commoners?" I looked at him just in time to see him give an uncertain nod; apparently my choice of word was a bit too blunt for a man who was so well educated in sardonicism and cynicism. To avoid judging a town of people I didn't even know further I decided to turn the attention to an explanation of our relationship. "So is this gonna be like a family thing? Us living together? It's a small town so we'll have to get to know people."

"Dear heart we look nothing alike." He was right, none of our features matched and it would be pointless to even pretend like we were on the same page with that lie.

As much as I hated to even say it in a car that only the two of us occupied, I had to because I doubted he would. "Are we a couple?" Okay, that came out as a question rather than a statement, but it would have felt very bold of me to even dare uttering those words with firmness. My embarrassment would have only been at its peak had I allowed him to answer me. "So how do we explain being so high tech to the town?" I inquired, grappling with the proper term since "rich" sounded so cliché.

With a heavy sigh he turned on his blinker to warn other travelers that we were taking the left exit. "Those people do not know us, and therefore they do not know what it is that we do Miss Redfield. It is none of their business how we acquired such success, but if they must retrieve an answer from either of us we work online and are the owners of many companies."

My nod served well as affirmation that I understood, and there were no other questions to ask except about his being human temporarily. I hypothesized that the man who was out to kill him had achieved this by means of some sort of drug and that he knew there was no way he could kill him without it. Though this would have been the perfect opportunity to tell Chris that his chance was now, I figured out that Wesker still had enough clout to have people watching my brother. Though he was now weak physically, he was still a very powerful man with powerful connections, but that ass kicking he got last night had caused him to proceed with caution around me.

For the rest of the drive we were silent, not speaking until we stopped at a gas station and he asked if I wanted anything. I declined. It was most uncomfortable to be on a nine hour drive and being full of gas station food and snacks didn't make the journey any easier. Plus, I'd eaten a big breakfast before he got there just in case he was horrible enough to not offer me anything. He got himself a little bag of potato chips though, and he ate them slowly as though the taste was strange to him.

I didn't ask why he'd looked at the chips as though they were something foreign to him, I just assumed that he hadn't eaten in a very long time and if he had it was probably space food.

Welcome back to being human Albert Wesker, I thought evilly to myself.

January 2, 2001 Tuesday 6:43 PM

At some point I'd fallen asleep, but the light from sparsely scattered street lamps interrupted my nap. Rubbing my eyes I tried to catch a glimpse of the town, and there wasn't much to look at. It looked like a Western town with bricks that had been used to cover up weathered wood. People were out and about because despite it being dark it was still early, but their faces were hard to make out. I could see their heads were turned in the direction of the BMW that Wesker and I both occupied though, curious as to why such a fancy car was making its way down their humble streets. One glimpse at Wesker told me that he didn't really care who looked, and also that he was tired from the long drive.

After the town was out of sight we headed down a long road under the simple yet suitable name of "Long Street," and he made a right turn down Saunders Lane. With an exhale of relief I sat up in my seat, but there was only a lamppost out in the vast yard and the headlights of the car were the only source of light that allowed me a glimpse of the cabin-or was it a mansion? I could see that there were two floors, and I saw exactly how far back it stretched. Then I realized that Wesker merely called this place a cabin; cabins were small and simple but this thing was only designed like one on the outside.

The place was fucking huge.

Wesker parked the car around the back of the house in a shed that served as a garage (a mechanical garage wouldn't really mesh with the wilderness look) and opting for silence he got his new wallet from me and got out of the car. This was so weird. He got my suitcase once more, lugging it up the steps of the back porch, still not speaking to me.

In a sing-songy voice I said, "This is not a cabin." Still, he remained silent as he fumbled with the keys in the dark. It was about a minute before he found the right ones, and we stepped inside the large structure together. Once he flicked on the lights I thought I'd just landed in Disney Land, and much to my elation the heater was running here. We were in the kitchen, and just looking at the size of it I said to myself, He better know how to use it.

Everything was stainless steel. The refrigerator was to our right with two doors and a freezer at the bottom, and from the side of it a cabinet ran into the corner and continued a bit until the sink interrupted its flow under the window but after that it continued to where we were standing. To the left there were more cabinets to come with some overhead ones for the storage of glasses and china. In the center of the left half of the kitchen there was another little area set up for chopping and preparation of food; I knew this because there was actually a chopping board sitting there. It took me a while to realize that the pantry door was a white door set into the wall on the way out of the room.

Then the scenery suddenly changed once we stepped down over the threshold into the den which was all wooden with a black, leather couch that formed half a circle in front of a plasma screen television that was well over fifty-five inches. To the left of that by the window set into the front of the house was a computer desk with a new CPU, but once I actually paid attention to the appearance of these items I began to pay attention to the smell that my nose was recognizing: everything in this house was new. Before I could see what other rooms were on the bottom floor of the house Wesker jerked his head in the direction to the right of the couch and television to a flight of stairs that led up. I assumed that he was hinting that it was time to go to bed, not exploring time, and when I gave a long yawn I admitted that I agreed. Once we got up the wooden staircase we traveled down a long hallway, passing by rooms with closed doors that I would definitely be running through tomorrow afternoon just to see what this place had in store for me.

The blond stopped at the last room on the left of the hall, opening the door and though he was still quiet as ever I assumed that it was expected that I follow. He turned on the lights and my eyes shot wide open despite my initial grogginess tugging them down. The floor up here was wooden also, as were the walls, but it was a much darker color than downstairs. Dark enough to compliment the plush, white rug that was beneath the queen-sized bed whose headboard rested against the right wall. The sheets were a deep red that were dark enough so that they wouldn't make it look like a Valentine's Day suite, and a canopy the same shade hung down over the sides.

Had he really known that red was my favorite color? If so why did he care so much to do this for me? Well, he did need to keep his "cover" happy.

I paid no attention to the walk-in closet opposite the bed, or the make-up area to the left of me because my eyes were fixed on the open doorway to the right of the closet. If my room was this nice, then the bathroom must have been amazing.

I stepped forward to go check it out, but a cool, gloved hand caught me gently by the arm just under the bend of my elbow. My stomach jumped in an unsettlingly pleasant way at Wesker's touch, and since I was grateful for all his trouble and effort I turned to him with a small yet warm smile.

Not seeming to care much that I approved of the setup, in his own way he bid me goodnight without actually saying it. "I will retire for the night. My bedroom is the last door on the right at the end of the hall. If you need to go into town tomorrow morning for anything the keys to your vehicle are on the nightstand to the right of your bed. It will be parked in the front."

And I got my own car.

Just as he turned to leave after releasing my arm, I decided to do the courteous thing. "Thank you. You didn't have to do all of this for me." I only said it because it was the truth, although knowing that he would go through all of this, hell I wouldn't have it any other way. He paused at the doorway, but decided to keep going, shutting my door on the way out. My suitcase was next to the door, but the only things that were in there were underwear, some sneakers, my knife, and my gun.

I would leave it, because even though it was barely seven, right now I just wanted a bath, and to follow Wesker's example of getting to bed. After all, the earlier to bed, the earlier to wake and see what else was in store.

January 3, 2001 Wednesday 8:30 AM

I couldn't remember the last time I had gone to sleep at 7:30, or the last time I'd slept for over ten hours. The bathroom did not disappoint last night, although I was faced with the difficult decision of: shower with settings I didn't even know existed, or bath in what was basically an indoor Jacuzzi? Of course after that I had to check my closet and I found everything I'd ordered, and then some. There were formal dresses although I didn't know why, workout clothes, and underwear that I don't recall asking for.

When I woke up this morning I'd decided to put on some jeans, some black boots that were perfect for this weather and a t-shirt under a heavy coat that I left on my bed until I was ready to go. First I needed to explore some more and see what we needed from the grocery store, and it was nice to find that Wesker had left directions to all of the stores in the town on the computer desk.

There was a decent sized gym on the ground floor, with a living room between that and the kitchen and those were the only other things I got to check out other than the dining room which was accessed through the kitchen but I did not really explore that room. All of the other rooms upstairs were locked, and I wasn't sure why, but the only locked door that bothered me was the one in the living room. Most likely it led underground. Umbrella liked doing that, and since Wesker bought this place when he was working for them it was safe to say that he decided to use that trick for himself.

I decided to linger around until 8:30 though, just to see if he would be up by then, but he didn't come out. The refrigerator was pretty bare and all there was in the pantry were some crackers (so maybe someone had been here for a short period of time) so I thought I'd stay put for a bit just to see if he wanted anything in particular from the store. However, my stomach was talking to me, so I threw on my coat, got my keys and headed out the front door. In the driveway sat a Silver Trailblazer, and I may have liked red but that wouldn't have looked nice on this vehicle.

The closest store would have to do, I was famished, and since Wesker was locked in his room, sleeping like a tired human I expected him to eat like a hungry one. I tried to be inconspicuous as I shopped, but this being a small town made that hard to do. Although no one came up to me they looked at me whenever they thought I was unaware of their stares which kept distracting me from what I needed.

There was no list so I got whatever I saw and knew I would want. I stocked up on produce: lettuce, spinach, broccoli, apples, oranges, and whatever else I could grab before I felt like farm-grown food was taking up too much space from the artificial stuff. I _needed_ junk food! I bought plenty of TV Dinners since I knew I wouldn't be cooking everyday and I wasn't sure if my host was much of a chef himself. Cereal and oatmeal was a must have along with two 28-packs of water and some sodas.

I got juices, ice cream, packs of fun-sized candy bars and after I threw a few feminine items in the overly-full cart I figured that I had done enough damage. I estimated the bill to be about three hundred and I was right, but that was nothing for Wesker I was sure. When I handed over the black card (I wanted to keep as much cash on me as possible just in case) the young brunette took a look at the name on the bottom, but she did not greet me at all which I thought to be pretty rude. It pissed me off further when I realized that she only wanted to see who this rich-bitch was coming in flashing her brand-new clothes and card that indicated that I was privileged.

Newsflash sweetie, I've never dropped that much money in one day in my entire life not counting when I bought my bike and paid for classes of course (the latter which the tax payers picked up the bill for anyway).

After she helped who I assumed to be her manager bag my mountain of items she muttered a, "Have a nice day," to which I didn't even bother to reply to since she wouldn't think much of my kindness anyway. The manager, whose name tag read Wilson, helped me load the SUV up, and I decided to give him a very generous tip for his trouble. I couldn't help but smirk when I saw the brunette staring out the window as her boss stood there gaping at the bill.

January 3, 2001 Wednesday 10:23 AM

Once I saw the house I decided to park around back next to Wesker, and I opened the trunk to get out at least two bags. Inside the kitchen I found him staring into an empty fridge, but when he saw me he shut it.

I stood there for a while and bit my bottom lip. He was acting so strangely because I was seeing him human, and he still had to readjust to being so weak and susceptible to things such as fatigue, hunger, and possibly loneliness. "'You hungry?"

His stomach answered the question, and he placed a hand on it as if to silence it.

"Well, I got quite a bit of stuff. I got fruits, vegetables, frozen dinners." Trying to smile I continued in an attempt to coax him out of whatever shell he'd locked himself into since the other night. "I got a bunch of these frozen dinners and they're mostly Chicken Fettuccini with broccoli. They're really good."

As if he was checking my honesty, he cocked his head to get a better view through the brown, plastic bags that I held.

These held tampons and razors though, so I said quickly, "The other stuff is out in the car. You like pasta right?" I asked when he remained silent.

"Yes Claire," was his simple reply, but him saying my first name made it seem somewhat complex. As he passed by me, in the corner of my eye I saw a tiny smirk appear. Maybe he was getting back to normal. Whether that was good or bad, I couldn't tell you.

Together we unloaded the bags of groceries and put things away, and we even organized the refrigerator together. I liked things in certain places, plus it kept the refrigerator from becoming cluttered and also it helped with keeping me from having to complete the tedious chore of finding and throwing out expired items.

After everything was put away I heated Wesker up a frozen dinner before doing the same for myself, and went into the dining room I had managed to look over the night before. There was no door, just a space for one in the wall next to the refrigerator that led into the large room with the same colored wood walls and floor in the den. The window ran the length of the room and Wesker had pulled back the curtains to allow some natural light in.

The table was in the shape of a long rectangle, and since he sat at the end to the back of the room I decided to sit on the opposite end. It was awkward enough being in a house with him so sitting next to him like we were enjoying a nice breakfast together was definitely out of the question. With a tentative smile I looked up at him before I began to eat. In silence we finished our first meal at the house, not even looking at each other as we ate.

"Why me?" I blurted the question out without thinking, but I couldn't allow myself to feel regret over it. It was a question that begged for an answer because I still didn't fully understand what was going on.

Sitting up straight in his chair, Wesker removed his shades, rubbing his eyes before once more allowing me to glimpse them as a normal color. "Because you have dealt with people like this before Miss Redfield. And because you do not exist in the files of the man who is after me, although you were captured and recorded by Umbrella he has no access to the files of the survivors from Rockfort or Antarctica."

I figured the subtext read, "Thanks to me."

"But," he continued, lifting a finger as if to silence me before I even thought of interrupting, "even if he did have information on you he would not expect me to come to you since our main connection is Chris and it is not a positive relationship I have with him. And I knew you wouldn't kill me," he added quietly.

Wesker had predicted that I would let him speak his piece if I ran into him, and he knew that any other enemy would have killed him upon the realization that he lost his powers. I listened to him speak, still as though he had so much power and others possessed so little, yet I could hear the doubt in the tone of his voice.

He may die.

He knew that I was a poor substitute for a professional bodyguard, yet he turned to me because I knew how to defend myself and now if he was in trouble, I was in trouble.

"Wesker how did he do this to you?" I may have sounded sympathetic but in truth I was afraid. If someone managed to get to him and render him helpless then how could we expect to survive?

"I was administered a drug without my knowing and I do not know how it was made." I could tell that his last admission that was thrown onto the end of the sentence irked him; being a scientist he was supposed to know everything. "For now you are the only reason that I am not in a World War II bunker surviving off of canned-goods."

Along with humanity came harshness when he spoke of himself. He hated being human again, to need someone to have his back when he could have been a freak of nature that could crush men's skulls without flinching from effort. And now here I was feeling bad for him because he couldn't continue to plot and scheme to ruin lives.

Damn I hated this.

January 3, 2001 Wednesday 2:46 PM

The day inched along slowly, painfully slow to the point where I decided to hit the gym with the hopes that a nice jog on the treadmill would help me through the next hour at least. I had gotten to five miles finally, so that meant I managed to pass an hour, but that just wasn't enough. I decided to take a break and just before I could go pick up my water that sat in front of the mirror lining the entire back wall I thought I heard the doorbell ring.

I don't know if annoyance was the reason I was frowning or confusion, but the doorbell ringer began to knock when it seemed that no one was going to answer. As if I had x-ray vision I looked up at the ceiling, wondering if Wesker was going to get that, but I didn't hear the sound of his heavy footsteps. Rolling my eyes, I walked to the front door, not caring if I was only in some bicycle shorts and a sports bra, but I did wish to stop the person outside from banging on the door like they were the police.

"Yes?" I asked, swinging the door open and allowing a whoosh of freezing air in, but I tried to pretend it did not bother me. An older couple stood on the porch, smiling happily at me as if I'd just won some contest or something. I estimated that they were in their late thirties, and from the fur coat and leather gloves the woman wore I assumed that they had some money.

"Hi we're Mary and Frank Luoma and we noticed that you're new here in Red Lodge," the woman announced, her bright red smile getting impossibly wider. I was so mesmerized at how far her lips were spread across her face, she sort of reminded me of the Joker from Batman.

I extended a hand to her and reminded myself that here I wasn't Claire Redfield. "Sara Ivanov." Her grip was soft whereas her husband's was firm, a little too firm. Mary's eyes widened a bit, giving me the hint that it was cold outside so I stepped to the side and ushered them in. The couple looked around the den as though it was a spectacular sight to behold, but I honestly felt that this was Wesker's taste "watered down."

"So," Mary began, peeking over my shoulder at the kitchen, "Do you live here alone?"

"Oh no. I live here with someone. But let me change, make yourselves at home," I said hurrying up the stairs before I finished the sentence; I would rather have Wesker down here doing the explaining than me. The anxiety I felt had me panting when I reached the end of the hall, and I had to calm myself down to keep from banging on Wesker's door. It took a few seconds but I heard what I guessed to be his bathroom door closing before I could hear his muffled footfall from behind the locked door.

The lock clicked and he stuck his head out to see what was going on, and through the crack in his door I saw that he was only in a towel with steam still coming from his toned skin.

Claire, stop looking, I warned myself. The virus had managed to keep him in shape, so I wondered what half a year without the perks would do to him.

"Yes?" He asked while using one had to keep the towel up around his waist.

"Some people are here," I whispered. His eyebrows were raised after I said this, but in a reassuring tone I said, "They're some locals who noticed us moving into town. Mary and Frank Luoma."

He nodded a few times and looked down to the wooden floor beneath his bare feet. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Okay, I'm gonna go change." I turned to go to my room and changed in record time. I threw on some black flip-flops, a black tank top, and some jeans. Now the real chore would be trying to ignore how icky I felt from sweating earlier while Wesker got to sit comfortably after a nice, hot shower.

Five minutes later I was heading back downstairs to the den, but there was no one there. Then the sound of laughter erupted from the living room, so I followed Mary's high pitched voice that rang throughout the house, finding it to be rather forced and well, annoying in all honesty. Wesker sat in the couch facing the entrance to the living room while the Luomas had their backs to me. The shades were once more back on his face, and he was dressed in a black, long-sleeved tee and black jeans (the most casual I had ever seen him).

His lips curled into an inviting smile that I knew had to be phony, however it may have charmed the pants off of Mrs. Luoma, but I read it as, "Get your ass over here now."

Putting on a smile that was equally as fake I walked over to sit next to him, hoping to put a good three inches at least between us, but before my ass hit the seat he pulled me so close that I had to cross one leg over the other to be comfortable.

"There she is!" he announced, his deep voice sending a chill through my body until it resonated in my bones.

Patting his thigh I said, "And there you are," my smile becoming even more phony by the second, though it was the only thing keeping me from vomiting over the fact that I was practically on his lap.

Eying us suspiciously and possibly with some jealousy Mary cleared her throat. "So how old are you Sara?"

"I'm twenty-one." My answer was given without uncertainty so the Luomas had no reason to doubt my response, but I did see her grow uncomfortable once she found out that in comparison to everyone else in the room I was a baby.

I didn't understand why my age mattered much though, unless they had already asked Wesker his and noticed that I still had a bit of baby fat in the face. Still, I hoped that Mary was confident enough in herself not to care much about appearances; she was very pretty in a mom-ish kind of way. Her brown hair was parted to the side and twisted in the back of her head, she possessed few smile lines and a lovely set of dimples, a pair of forest green eyes, and an outfit that may have been for a board meeting but the red stilettos were to die for.

She didn't do too badly in picking out a husband either. Frank may have had a head of grays already but he looked very handsome in a Frank Sinatra fashion with his suit and twinkling, gray eyes.

"So," she began after taking a sip from the mug that was sitting in front of her on the coffee table, "How did the two of you meet?"

"Very long story!" I almost yelled, hoping that I could beat Wesker to it before he said something he'd definitely receive an elbow to the ribs for. I knew he'd say something like, "Her brother," and that was a definite no-no.

"We actually met in South America," he said, his arm was around my shoulder so he gave a tight squeeze to let me know that my behavior was strange.

Mary's eyes flew open at Wesker's response, and for a minute I thought they'd say in unison, "Oooooooh!" Instead she said, "South America? That sounds lovely. Was it vacation or…" She trailed off to allow one of us to fill in the blank.

This time I answered, but now the smile I wore was especially for Wesker. And hopefully he noticed how upset it made me to recall the events of Rockfort. "It's funny actually, it was kind of a forced trip for me, but it was work for Jeffrey. Chaotic," I added, remembering how he bombed the island which was actually what was responsible for the deaths of many, but while I tried to make him feel bad I found myself realizing that had he not attacked Rockfort then I would have most likely died. It took me a while to figure it out, but my smile had disappeared once I saw that I was giving Albert Wesker credit for my escaping.

"Are you all right?" It was the first time Frank had spoken since I came in the living room, but I gave him a small smile to let him know that I appreciated his concern.

Easing up his grip on me Wesker said, "It wasn't the ideal time." The explanation for my abrupt change in demeanor seemed to suffice, so our visitors did not speak on it again.

"Well, we do hope the two of you will throw a party to celebrate your arrival here in Red Lodge." Signaling that they were about to head out, Frank stood up, offering his hand to his wife. "We just thought we'd come meet you, our daughter wouldn't shut up about the new girl in town."

I stood as well, hands on my hips. "Daughter?"

"Stephanie," Mrs. Luoma replied as her husband helped her into her coat. "She works at the store down the street."

So the cashier was their daughter. I see she inherited none of her parents' social skills. I figured they were telling us about her because they wanted her to be invited to this possible party.

"She's nineteen, not much younger than you Sara," she added like she was thinking about it, and her face screamed, "The two of you could be best friends!" Her following sentence helped me realize that friendship was exactly what she was hinting at though. "Most of her friends went away for college, but she stayed here to learn the ropes of our family oil business."

I raised a brown eyebrow. Huh, so they did have some money, and oil usually meant it was pretty much spouting out of their asses. "Yeah I met her."

"Well, Mr. Saunders shall soon as well," she said in an assuring tone, like the fate of the party was in her hands, and I had a feeling because she wanted it, this gathering would happen one way or another. I felt that she was up to something though, and it was something that I would just have to be apprehensive about it until she was ready to reveal her ulterior motive. And even though he claimed to be truthful, I knew Wesker had one too.


	3. Calor

A/N: Thank you reviewers and I know I have this as a Romance/Drama and it's got its funny moments, but I do want it to become dramatic at some point of course it's something that's going to have to come naturally. I don't want it to be super gloomy but of course the drama will come as the weeks come in the story when tensions flare. But thank y'all for the kind words and thanks for adding my story to your favorites and alerts list! Also the last title, "Domus" means home and "Calor" means warmth, words mentioned in the chapters and I'm glad I chose Latin because I usually always second-guess my choice of chapter title. But it took so long for me to update because I had to read a 200-something page novel in a few days (didn't finish just went to Wikipedia which got me a 100 on the quiz) and write a paper (turns out I didn't have to write it on the book but on a short story I chose and apply Psychoanalytic Theory to it which was horrible) and even though I procrastinated like crazy I still couldn't let myself write as much as I wanted to though since I hadn't started reading that book because it's not at all interesting. Things are great in my relationship right now but I don't wanna read about young love and heartbreak and discovering sex. Aha, I may only have turned 20 on the 7th but I'm waaay past figuring out all of that. Also I found that I missed three forum discussion for that online, English class and she put "time to drop this class" next to the third zero I received for the forums. Well, it wouldn't have happened had she put the forums with the rest of the assignments in the alert box or on the calendar (I do take responsibility for my own failure though). So I have to make great grades since I missed 30 points. Uggggghhhh! Then it just so happened to be the night when I found this out that I also discovered another forum answer was due in twenty minutes and I had to do that from my iPhone to get it submitted on time. And I got my midterm submitted a minute before the deadline, or at least that's what it says so I hope it did. To top it off I was depressed for a week. So as y'all can see, I've been busy and stressed to the point that I'm afraid my hair will break out in the back again. Oh the horrors of college and womanhood.

Lady Snowstorm: I definitely agree about Wesker's name. I really couldn't find anything that sounded natural I didn't want this incredibly forced name. I don't think Wesker can be anyone but Albert Wesker, even though I find the name "Albert" to be funny on him as well. Anything else would have sounded so old had I gone for a more serious name and though he is old he isn't OOLLLLD. But I wanted Claire to get a kick out of his name and I kind of did too but if there are suggestions for another name that suits him and it's something people can agree on I'm willing to change it. So just let me know because I suck at naming guys, they can't just have pretty names like us girls. : )

Skiptrix: Yeah I was trying to make Wesker awkward and strange. Since he's not the character whose head I'm in to Claire he's very off. I can't imagine going from human to this amazingly powerful being back to human. But to try and figure out how he would be acting after this transition I thought of the episode of Buffy when Giles drugged her for the council test and she felt HORRIBLE. She supposedly had the strength of a human but with slayer strength gone those tiny muscles had as much strength as well, tiny muscles when she was used to exerting minimal force to kick ass. I highly doubt Wesker had to work out much as a… whatever the hell he was as he did while human. So I want him to feel extremely weak and therefore he has up his guard which explains his quirkiness. He's kind of like me and my fiancé's cat right now, just jumping at every noise now that he's been thrown into this new situation and Wesker is usually a busy man (on a headset, typing, spying) but now he's got nothing to do because he _has _to stay under the radar. And I like that I've put him into this strange situation because since he's vulnerable there'll be these other sides of him to explore and play around with : )

Ultimolu: Thanks for the review : ) And I'm gonna admit I'm scared of Wesker lol. I used to have nightmares about him all the time, except one where he was trying to save me and another where he unleashed T at my high school and ran away when I tried to put the blame on him. That's how I know I played too much Resident Evil lol. So yeah he definitely makes me feel watched, like I better do his character justice or else.

Naoko Suki: Yeah the wife's a huge bitch, but she has a purpose : )

Le Bijou: Lol thanks, I wanted to make the story somewhat true. :D

Siamra: I feared that I would make that mistake. Thank you though. I'll change it.

BlueMorpho2: Thank you so much! Yes I understand what you mean lol. And we shall see Claire's cattiness at one part in this chapter. She can do what she wants seeing as Wesker is human now. I'll let her have her day in this fic. : )

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters.

Optio

Chapter 3: Calor

January 4, 2001 Thursday 11:13AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Lonely

Sitting in the shower, I ignored the water pelting me in a constant flow, not wanting to move at all even if it meant saving my poor hair from being dried out any further. I had been here for three days now and I didn't feel any better, and I still felt like this whole situation was all wrong. There was no warmth in this house yet, so I decided on telling Wesker (not asking him), that we were having this soiree that Mary Luoma had hinted at so much. Living here was in no way healthy for me, there was all this space with just Wesker and me, I was lonely because the person I lived with was Wesker, and the move had me fatigued.

What was that saying? Give a girl the world and she'll ask for the sun… or something like that hell I didn't know.

I'd spent my morning changing my schedule, paying fees with my host's money, and trying on the formal dresses he'd supplied me with. Maybe he thought I still had proms or something.

Speaking of the enigmatic Albert Wesker, I had not seen him at all this morning, nor had I even heard him leave his room. Although I did feel the need to wake up at about five, maybe he was moving around then and I became alert. That was the best thing about him being human now: the ability to feel his presence. Our first two meetings however hadn't been that way, and he'd snuck up on me like Death minus the tell-tale iciness that supposedly wafted from the well-known figure.

Ugh, it seemed like the more that I thought the more that I was reminded of all of the things I didn't want to be thinking about but things that needed to be considered. I kept thinking about dying. If Wesker was discovered, then I would most likely be killed as well just because I was here, and I really didn't want to be remembered as the "bimbo who died for her brother's enemy slash bioterrorist."

"What am I doing here?" I asked my feet. If anything, I needed some sort of relief, and working out had only reminded me of why I needed to stay in tip-top shape, further depressing me.

I remembered Chris explaining how sex felt to a guy (of course he then warned me of all of the consequences at least six times after letting me know that I was missing out), and I wondered if it was the same for a woman. If that feeling of tension just being let go wasn't exclusively for those with a penis, then I had been missing out, but there was nothing I could do about it now other than masturbate and wonder if it was as good as any other form of sex. Though it appears women are taught to be ashamed of pleasuring themselves, it kept me from giving myself to some jackass at a frat party when I got too drunk.

Why was I even thinking about sex as an alternative stress reliever when I was here under the pretense of a relationship? And as for the alternative I couldn't even imagine masturbating in a house with Wesker in it, hell I wasn't even comfortable changing here out of fear he had skeleton keys, one way mirrors, and security cameras everywhere. Rather than be a slave to my desires of the flesh I stood up and turned off the shower. This would be a long six months.

* * *

January 6, 2001 Saturday 5:00 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Shitting Bricks

In two hours the place would be flooded with locals, something that I found out in a phone call from Mary yesterday. She told me that she would invite the people who we should be knowing (AKA the people who in her opinion mattered), and that all I needed to worry about was a caterer, decent music that the older people could relate to (so I chose a lot of 80's stuff), moving all the furniture against the walls, and despite it only being thirty degrees I needed to set up tables outside for the people who chose liquor to shield them from the cold and also for the smokers. All of the food was in the dining room, spread out on the long table but those who would be eating would have to sit in the gym at the cheap storable tables Wesker had kept in the shed farther out in the yard or one of the ones in the living room.

I also found out that one of the many locked doors upstairs was a restroom for guests, and it had been opened by Wesker for them since he saw no point in everyone crowding around the one in the back of the gym.

Our bedrooms would be locked to ensure that no prying eyes dared to trespass, it would have been hell to explain to the people why I had my own bedroom if we were a couple, and even if we managed to invent this amazing tale they'd still draw their own conclusions about the inner workings of our relationship.

The alcoholic beverages were on the counter which pretty much went the length of the oversized kitchen and they consisted of a bowl of spiked punch, a bottle of Vodka, champagne, wine, gin, Jack Daniel's, Tequila, and for the sissies there we had wine coolers and daiquiris. I even did what a nice hostess would do; provided cut lemons, limes, and even margarita salt. Once I tallied up the damages due to the expenses of alcohol, I noticed Wesker's demeanor had changed suddenly, but I knew it was not because of how much I bought, it was because there would be both food and alcohol being served which usually led to puking up your guts. To ease him I went out and purchased a dozen cheap, plastic waste bins of assorted colors and placed them in the dining room, kitchen, front porch, gym, den, living room, and at the top of the stairs for the champs that made it so close to the other restroom.

I didn't bother with decorations, it wasn't a birthday party it was a nosey-townies-need-an-excuse-to-come-over party, and I had only met four people in Red Lodge so everyone else owed _me_, well actually Wesker but all he had done whilst I planned and worried about the short amount of time I had to get everything together was work out and eat. Oh and I couldn't forget that he slept like a fat, nipped-up housecat.

With a hand that I had to force to become easy, I applied my eyeliner best as I could before putting on my mascara. It sort of felt nice to be dressing up like this, so I decided to have fun with it. My hair was parted to the side of my head, wavy since I decided not to do anything with it after my shower an hour earlier, and I fluffed it to give it a seductively tousled look. There was some pink lip gloss in one of the drawers of my makeup area and I put just a bit on my lips so that it was only a tad noticeable, and I decided on a dress that was a bit more clubby than formal. It was black and sleeveless, yet it still provided me with the extra oomph I needed to pull off the ruse of me actually possessing cleavage (I did but it wasn't the kind women envied and had to do a double take at).

And I was smart enough to remember to wear some underwear that actually covered my cheeks this time in case I somehow lost the tight dress that seemed to fit well in all the right places. I completed my outfit with a pair of black stilettos, and just when I thought I was ready to head downstairs I saw Wesker standing at my door in a pair of black jeans and a black button-down.

I half expected him to try to match me for the party (since he knew I loved a certain color more than others) and wear something red. Ha, I laughed to myself at the thought of Wesker wearing a red shirt and looking like a salsa dancer for the party. It seemed that he anticipated for me to deviate from my favorite color though, or maybe I wanted to believe that he cared enough about our ruse that he'd go to the lengths to pretend he gave a damn about color coordinating.

I noticed the necklace he held gingerly in his hands, and he walked over to my chair without explanation and secured it around my neck. It was a set of pearls that made my dress look a lot classier than it truly was and it amazed me how the product of an oyster managed to up the value of my ensemble so easily. Wesker's bare hands brushed against the warm skin of the back of my neck and I exhaled in disbelief at the gift, and I almost fainted once I entertained the idea that there was some thought behind the present.

"Sara Ivanov deserves to be able to show off how much her partner cares." And those words brought me back down from the clouds, the disappointment being displayed by the mirror in front of me.

Giving my hair one last tousle I said, "Of course she does." In a last effort to pretend that I wasn't really bothered I turned around in my chair to look at him, his blue eyes not concealed by his black shades. "Nice to see you don't have on the shades tonight. Maybe you can even have some fun."

As I stood I heard him chuckle for the first time since we'd been here. "Miss Redfield I hardly consider this amusement. This party of-"

"Hicks?" I finished for him, earning me a scowl, but honestly it was a relief that Wesker was showing me some emotion. "What?" I asked, spraying my neck lightly with the bottle of perfume that had been here before my arrival, "My blunt vocabulary too brutal for you?" I tried to walk off, but he grabbed my arm as he did the first night we arrived, but this time there was no emotion of surprise.

"Attitude," he warned, eyebrows drawn inward.

I matched his scowl. "Unless you want me to kick your ass like I did a few days ago, I suggest _you_ watch _your_ attitude." I had to snatch my arm away from him; it seemed that my words had shocked him back into reality where he was my equal. "You're just as human as me." I stormed off, my hair bouncing around my face, but I could imagine that Wesker was smirking right now.

My demeanor coupled with my outfit must have been a sight to behold. Good.

* * *

January 6, 2001 Saturday 7:00 PM

I have no idea what song Mrs. Luoma was bobbing her head to; I just knew that she looked odd doing it in her three-hundred dollar dress. Coincidentally, I had been hoping that she would wear a black dress as well, but hers was a softer material with ruffled straps. Her hair was styled the same as it was a few days ago when she showed up on Wesker's porch, better yet Mr. Saunders' and Miss Ivanov's porch. Not a hair was out of place, and Frank looked as dapper as he had that day.

"Oh where is that girl?" she asked, abruptly snapping out of her trance. "How long does it take to get out of the car for God's sake?"

Just as Mary finished her complaint about her slow daughter, the rude cashier I had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago came into the house wearing an outfit that looked like it was painted on her unnaturally bronze skin. She _had_ to have left her coat in the car.

Stephanie proudly wore a purple camisole with a built in bra, but I could tell she wore a padded pushup to help her out. Not a bit of fat poked out either, justifying her choice in outfit. Her dark jeans had deliberate rips in many different places, and her purple, heeled boots stopped at her knees. The teen's trimmed fingernails were painted black, shining under the light in the den, and her brown hair was loosely curled, almost reaching the middle of her back. The girl's eyes were the same forest green as her mother's, and her face still had that baby fat that mine did.

I wouldn't lie, the girl was gorgeous.

"Stephanie this is-"

"Miss Ivanov." She had interrupted her mother but she didn't look like she minded, however she seemed to put a little more into pronouncing "Miss." Our introduction ended there, Stephanie had walked over to her father and pretended like she was actually enjoying his company.

I could not wait until the party actually started so I could begin drinking.

Then I heard him coming down the uncarpeted stairs, wanting to be heard most likely because he wanted me to prepare. Jeffrey not Wesker, I chanted in my head, over and over so I wouldn't slip up and call him by his last name in my nervousness. Shades in place much to my disappointment, he walked over to me and placed an arm around my waist to assist in the authenticity of our farce of a relationship.

Almost jumping out of her skin, Mary practically screamed, "Oh, Stephanie!" Gesturing excitedly with her hands once her daughter's attention was focused on her, she cried, "Come meet Mr. Saunders!"

With a smile on her face, something I'd never witnessed before on the brunette, she twisted over to us, eying my faux beau with interest. Oh yeah, this is why Mary cared that we knew her daughter.

The urge to roll my eyes at such a desperate attempt was strong, although I managed to fight it fiercely, and accomplished something I rarely could: keep my composure when someone was intentionally being an asshole.

"Stephanie Luoma," she said, extending a hand to "Jeffrey" but he did not release me in order to grab hold of her hand. Instead, Wesker held on to me, making the handshake short and quick. After the greeting was over we stood there silent, making this one of the most awkward moments I'd experienced in this house. Well, nothing topped seeing Wesker in a towel without his shades so that one had not lost its position on the top of the list.

"I must make a trip out to the shed," he whispered in my ear, and he swept away in a hurry, leaving me as the subject of everyone's attention.

Thankfully, cars were pulling up now, and it seemed the whole town had made a decision to leave at the same time because I heard quite a few doors opening and closing. Boy was I in for a night.

I greeted people, showed them around, explained to them that Mr. Saunders and Miss Ivanov were not married but boyfriend and girlfriend, something that seemed to shock the conservatives once they heard that we were unwed and living together. I was asked to speak some Russian, however I told them I was unable to because my parents did not teach my brother and me (I was unable to leave Chris out when family was a subject for some reason). People asked what church we would be attending and since I didn't know if Wesker even acknowledged theology as a valid study I just told people we were Catholics that were "coming home," which earned me great praise and many invitations to churches around town. They asked about my education and the career that my character had been assigned by Wesker: "company owner."

Speaking of the blond I saw him every now and then, conversing with a visitor and his shades hid any disinterested glares that may have offended any of the locals. As for the Luoma's, well they were gorging themselves with the free food while keeping the townies intrigued with family stories and crazy business deals. And me, well I was having another shot of tequila, tired of the repetitive question of, "Where's the bathroom?" and the constant introductions were starting to get annoying.

People talked, laughed, drank, ate, yelled, and some danced. I just couldn't really get into the party spirit tonight, and my fake smile was hard to maintain when I thought of how not a soul here cared about me and how the only person I knew that was here thought very little if anything at all of me. So I continued to drink, throwing back shots like it was my last night on the planet.

Soon the world was beginning to change before my eyes, things looking very clear and oddly a lot more vivid than before. I squeezed through the chatting people in the kitchen. My face scrunched up in a look of disgust that was aimed at their rudeness and refusal to make way for the lady of the house.

"So what do you think of Miss Ivanov?" someone asked, but I couldn't find the voice.

"Well, after hearing how she and Jeffrey met it's pretty obvious what she is. Can you say home wrecker?"

"He was married?"

"On a _business trip _when he met her. What do _you_ think?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I held the wall as I made my way through the crowd of people who were probably all beginning to believe that Sara Ivanov had taken Jeffrey Saunders away from another woman. Though it shouldn't have mattered because I was Claire Redfield, I had to begin to accept the possibility that I would most likely be a social pariah in this town because people chose to look too far into things. So maybe we should have gone into detail about our meeting and relationship then.

I needed to get upstairs, everywhere I turned I heard, "Sara this and Sara that." People were staring at me smugly, laughing, whispering, throwing glances that they thought were unnoticed and tactful, and the anxiety I begin to feel was building in me to the point where I had to escape the noise. Without grace I climbed up the stairs on all fours, desperately trying to keep from falling on my face, but when I made it to the top I couldn't stand back up, so I continued to crawl. I made it to my door, but I couldn't reach it, and as I gave up I fell to the floor and I was unable to resist the sleep that came next.

* * *

January 6, 2001 Saturday Unknown Time

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Barely Conscious

My body was floating through the air, and I felt that the direction was constant as I inexplicably traveled down the hallway. Then I could feel the pair of arms responsible for it; however I didn't know who they belonged to at first, just that we were passing up the door to my room. As I mumbled incoherently, the person carrying me made his way to Wesker's bedroom door, unlocking it with ease before carrying me over the threshold. When the lights were turned on I was blinded, unable to see what his room looked like at the moment, and the person placed me gently on the bed.

A cool hand removed strands of hair from my face, and I fought just a little against the assistance of the Samaritan.

"Shh." Just by that I could tell it was Wesker.

"My room," I croaked, unable to pick out words so that I could successfully string together a sentence. I felt my stilettos being removed from my feet, and the covers of the bed were pulled up over my body and tucked in around me. I didn't open my eyes or protest anymore, because honestly I was just tired right now. Tired of the lies already, tired of the phony smiles and I was tired of this nightmare that was deemed my life. Being drunk and emotional was not a good mix.

Then I remembered that I was in Wesker's room, in his bed, and I shot up like I was possessed with this mystical surge of power. "I wanna go home," I mumbled, almost falling in my attempt to get out of the bed, my legs caught in the tangle of sheets.

Once more the blond shushed me, gently pushing me back with his hands on my shoulders which allowed him to successfully pin me down beneath him. "You don't know what you're doing," he warned, obviously convinced that alcohol impaired my judgment just like any other light-weight, college prep, but that wasn't me at all.

"Fuck you, Wesker," I groaned, my arms crossed over my breasts that I believed to be spilling over the top of my dress, although I was only mildly concerned with modesty. "You fucking… you…" It became even more difficult to remain conscious now, I thought maybe I should have been feeling a sense of urgency to escape his hold but I wasn't. "Puddin…" Despite knowing the words made no sense, they kept coming out of my mouth, and to me they meant something at the time.

I swore I heard him chuckling at me right now, when it would have been expected that he shake his head in disgust at my drunken display of defiance.

"In my… purse…"

I could barely make him out through the haze, but I think he looked pretty confused right now. "Dear heart, your purse is in your room."

"Nooo," I halfway howled, shaking my head from side to side, and I could picture that my undone hair was looking less sexy and more like something unusual had nested in it now. "Wesker?" I groaned loudly.

"Yes?" he asked in a voice that one would use for a curious child.

"I'm drunk."

"I figured. However, I must return downstairs to the party, and I will provide an explanation for your absence. Stay here." He once again tucked me in, pausing for a moment before he left the room, turning off the lights on his way out and locking me in.

I was expected to lie there until the guests decided to go home, however drunk I was I still kept in mind that it was a Saturday and though the churchgoer's Sabbath was tomorrow I doubt that they cared much about a night of debauchery resulting in broken covenants and commandments. It was, "Walk with the Devil today, follow God tomorrow."

Oh damn, I hope they don't expect me to be in the pews tomorrow, I thought to myself, failing at kicking the covers off of my body. Had no one told Wesker that too much alcohol made one overheated? My thoughts were all beginning to run together too rapidly, so I decided to take it one thing at a time, and right now I just wanted this tight dress off. It took me a while but I managed after writhing and wiggling this way and that, but the dress was lost in Wesker's sheets now, leaving me in my red panties. It hadn't occurred to me though that maybe Wesker would thoughtlessly throw back the covers when it came time to move me to my room which he should have done in the first place, but I guess he didn't want me roaming around in there when he knew I would keep still in his chambers.

With the music that was playing downstairs though, I found myself getting tired once more, the love song was almost like a lullaby to me, and sleep was a much better alternative than pondering why the blond chose a certain fabric to sleep on. And with the decision to sleep came the depressing thought of how no one was here to tell me goodnight except myself, not even a phone call from Chris.

"Good night, Claire."

* * *

January 7, 2001 Sunday 10:33 AM

There was warmth beating down onto my face, and from behind my eyelids I could tell there was a source of light that was responsible for the disturbance. Slowly, I opened my eyes, sensitive to what I discovered to be the sun's rays shining in through the window to my left. Beneath that window was a wooden desk, and next to that an armoire. Wesker's room was much like mine, except his bathroom and closet were to the right when you walked in. Strangely enough though I didn't care to check it out; I was too busy wondering why he let me sleep in his room the entire night and I was also searching for my dress.

I managed to find it after a few minutes of feeling for the material of my dress, and I stepped out of the elevated bed to slip it back on before tiptoeing down the hall. The door to my room was cracked, so I considered the possibility that maybe Wesker had slept there, but when I peeked inside I was oddly disappointed that no one was there.

Boy I couldn't wait until school started so that I could focus on assignments instead of human interaction. I could understand why it was believed that solitary confinement was considered a form of torture now, and I had privilege to roam freely. It didn't matter though because eventually I'd begin talking to my reflection, the television, and maybe even the dust particles that floated by whenever a fabric was beaten.

I showered, threw on some sweat pants, a tee, and I made my way downstairs to assess the damage and shake my head about it over breakfast. The sight of a spotless house caught me off guard though, and I was grateful that I didn't have to play maid today but at the same time I was confused. Wesker couldn't have gotten rid of the food, the mess, or the tables all by himself. Looking skeptical, I made my way into the dining room where the scent of food wafted from, and I found the blond at the end of the table drinking coffee whilst reading the paper. This was like the fucking Twilight Zone.

In the center of the table sat a few plates with egg whites, bacon, waffles, and sausage. Once he realized I was there he put the paper next to him on the table and gestured for me to come in. Hesitantly, I walked over to the table, taking a seat a few chairs down from Wesker, and he waved his hand at the food signaling for me to help myself. Since I was starving, I did just that, and he stared at me with what appeared to be intrigue. I got that he was getting used to being human again but did he have to study everything I did like I was some fucking experiment of his?

He watched me silently, and I tried my damndest to ignore his glare, but he was definitely making it difficult for me to eat in peace. When I finished (which took a long time since being watched while I ate made me self-conscious), he finally spoke to me with his fist holding up his head and a smile of amusement pasted on his face.

"Dear heart I see you took it upon yourself to establish to the town that we are Catholics. You didn't even consult with me." I wanted to believe that he was teasing me, but I didn't want to assume that of Albert Wesker.

With a sigh I pushed my empty plate away and looked at his shades to see my reflection staring back at me. "That's because every five seconds you were running off to 'tend to important matters,'" I replied, harboring a bit of an attitude. "What else was I supposed to say? 'Oh, J's a scientist so you know what that means and I haven't cracked open a Bible since the time I _desperately_ needed paper to roll a joint?'"

To my surprise, he chuckled at me, and it was a lot louder than I'd ever heard him chuckle before so don't blame me for almost fainting when I found that he had a sense of humor. Although I was very curious to know whether he was laughing at what I said collectively or just the last, embarrassing part about pot? Since I felt strange admitting that to him in the first place I chose not to ask him; he didn't need to think that I cared about whatever judgment he chose to pass on me. Come to think of it he had done WAY worse than me so why the hell should I have cared if he was judging me in the first place?

I must have been frowning at my own thoughts because his voice held the slightest tone of empathy. "Miss Redfield, I take no issue with you stepping up and providing answers to the locals."

"Oh," I said, looking down at my clasped hands in my lap and feeling quite foolish.

"Also, I am neither an atheist nor a Darwinist."

My head shot up in his direction at his admission, and he grinned at my astonishment. I guess he really was an attention-whore, something that Chris said about him when Wesker was new to the team. My brother had insisted that Wesker's shades, hair, and customary indifference towards just about everything was all a front to gain some attention. It made no sense to me at the time but lately I was seeing that Wesker enjoyed surprising people.

The blond leaned forward, his arms on the table and he looked like he was ready to pounce while I was still stunned. "It is best that a scientist keep his personal beliefs personal so that he may avoid being 'blackballed.'"

"So you're a Christian?" I asked, treading lightly just in case he wasn't.

"I don't suppose I am since I do very un-Christian things. If you meant to ask if I believe that some things just _cannot_ be explained, then yes."

Silent, I nodded. "I haven't been to church since my parents' funeral." Once it was said it couldn't be taken back, and I wondered if I should have even said that to him.

"Who killed them?" He didn't ask how they died, but "_Who_ _killed_ them." It was a safe assumption though that they were killed since both of them died at the same time; also Chris may have opened up to him in the past about it, but apparently not enough.

It took a moment for me to put the words together, and I had to chew on my bottom lip before I uttered those words. My heart was pounding so hard at the memory of the funeral that I was sure it was visible through my chest. "I just know one of the murderers was God." The words left my mouth in a whisper since I was unable to muster up enough strength, and I knew if I had been any louder my voice would have broken just as badly as my heart had. I didn't look up to see what emotions Wesker's face held, I didn't stick around to joke about how drunk I had been either, but instead I just got my plate and headed for the kitchen.

This was only getting harder.

* * *

January 7, 2001 Sunday 1:15 PM

I heard my "partner" leave an hour earlier, probably because he thought I wanted to be alone, and he was right. It was also a relief to see him get out of the house finally; I just had no idea what he'd do in this town. When I heard the BMW pull out of the driveway I tried to watch television, but it seemed everything was about family or love. Then I attempted to work out, but I couldn't get up after I'd finished limbering up, just stare at my reflection in the mirror. I walked to the phone at some point, intent on calling Chris since I hadn't heard his voice in a while, but then I felt guilty that I even considered calling him from one of Wesker's phones.

Then I laid in my bed, facing the window with the curtain drawn over it, and I tried to force myself to take a nap. Sleep was a much preferable alternative to sitting around not knowing what to do with myself, and I didn't need to further question why I had come here in the first place. It was for the greater good, but I knew that Chris would argue that an act for the greater good would have been me shooting Wesker between the eyes when he came to me for help. At some point I ceased to think and let myself go.

Now I was wide awake though, except it was not because I had been oversleeping here. That intuitive feeling of oncoming danger was keeping my eyes wide open right now, and it was the same feeling I had the night Wesker broke into my apartment.

In case my host had decided to turn on me one night I had reverted to my habit of sticking my weapons beneath my pillow, but I wasn't looking for my knife this time. The steel of my gun was cool in my hands, untouched since the day I moved in, but it had not been forgotten. There was the slightest noise that let me know that something was off: a doorknob down the hall being jiggled.

Wesker didn't jiggle handles because he knew which ones he kept locked, and he had keys. There was an intruder. They made their way down the hallway slowly; checking doors as they went, and not one was unlocked, not even mine. The sound of heavy boots retreating down the stairs was my signal that it was safe to go down and confront whoever the hell dared to come into my home. My bedroom door opened quietly, but the sound of something being moved caught my ear; they were downstairs.

My first thought was that this person was after Wesker, and that they were not just looking to talk to him. Gun pointed down at the floor, I crept down the hallway on the balls of my feet so that I would not give away my position in the house. The intruder was now very quiet and I hoped to myself that they had not caught on to me; the people that Wesker dealt with were dangerous and extremely skilled, just as he was before he was turned into a weak, little kitten that had to resort to hiring a 115 pound girl for protection.

I heard more noise, and so I took this to my advantage. I rushed down the rest of the way and aimed my gun at the back of the intruder's head. "Don't move!" I commanded, and I saw the black duffle bag he was holding fall to the floor. I saw nothing of him except his shape beneath the black clothing, and what appeared to be a black sock covered his head; something that did not see so professionally.

My curiosity was stronger now as I continued to think of reasons why an assassin would be equipped with a duffle bag and a sock. "Turn around." My voice was strong, not betraying the fear that I had felt at all once I realized that someone was here, and the sadness that had been upon me earlier disappeared as adrenaline rushed though my veins making me feel more alive. I felt warmth from this rush and I had no doubt that what I felt inside was coming off of me waves it was so strong. I needed this action, and since action was what I was lacking I would have to take it in this form.

Hands raised, the man turned to me slowly, and I pondered whether or not he was afraid to look at me. Once he saw my weapon he visibly jumped up from the floor, eyes wide inside the crude holes torn into his makeshift mask.

"What the fuck lady?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I countered, confidently walking over to him with the barrel of my gun aimed right for his head. Since I was still unsure about him, I wanted to look into the bag on my own, so I bent down with the gun pointing upward. Scowling, I said, "If you so much as flinch I'll shoot you right in your dick." Quickly I pulled open the bag with one hand, finding a few of the decorative items from the living room, and they were either plated in silver or gold. Oh shit this was only a simple burglary and I was sure the poor guy was about to shit his pants because he didn't know what kind of nut jobs' home he had broken into.

There wasn't even a weapon inside the bag.

Rolling my eyes I got back up with a mocking smirk pasted on my face. "How old are you?" I asked, looking him right in his hazel eyes.

"Seventeen," he answered, and the door to the house opened.

Wesker had returned, and behind his shades I could tell that his blue eyes were wide. Who wouldn't be curious after walking into their home and seeing a woman with a gun to masked assailant's head? He hadn't stepped over the threshold yet, not sure what to make of the situation: if he should run or stay.

To put his worries to rest I said loudly, "Burglar." As if I had told him it was tea time he shut the door and walked over to take a look at the trespasser. I don't know how Wesker feels about thieves, but I for one believe their punishment should be worse than a few months in lockup. "Call the cops." Just what we needed: our first police report.

* * *

January 7, 2001 Sunday 1:36 PM

Subject: Kennedy, Leon Scott

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Fine

Before I began knocking on the door, I checked the torn off piece of paper in my pocket. This was the right door. With less force than I usually would use, I knocked on the door, but honestly it sounded too delicate for my taste. Then again this was supposed to be a surprise visit.

I didn't even know I was Colorado bound until last night; having received a phone call that there was suspicious activity in this region, and I found this call had actually done me a favor by allowing me the opportunity to catch up with Claire.

When I heard nothing from inside the apartment I knocked again, this time sounding like the cop that I once was. Where could she have been? It was freezing outside, she had no job, and it was way too early for her to be partying.

"Sir?" I turned to see a woman who appeared to be in her early 20s peeking at me from behind her door.

Deciding to temporarily abandon Claire's door I turned to face the woman responsible for the interruption, walking a bit closer so that I could better hear her. For some odd reason she spoke quietly, maybe she had a baby inside that she didn't want to wake.

"You're looking for Claire?" she asked timidly.

"Yeah, you know where she is?"

"Haven't seen her in days, I was hoping you'd have an idea." Then she stepped out into the hallway, hands on her hips. She was very short and thin, hazel eyes and flowing, black hair that was indubitably dyed that color. Her skin was an olive complexion, and a few freckles were dotted across the bridge of her nose and under her eyes, although because of her skin tone they were not so noticeable unless you were trying to find them. A pair of worn jeans barely hugged her tiny waist, and a maroon top fitted her small frame nicely.

I decided to end my assessment, I was here for Claire. "You know anybody who would know where she is?"

Shifting all of her weight (which was not very much) to one foot she bit her bottom lip. "Try the old man below her, Alexei Sidorov, a real dickwipe. 'Bangs on his ceiling if she so much as sneezes."

"Thanks…" I purposely trailed off to allow her to give me her name if she so chose.

Cracking a smile she said, "Maritza Arti."

"Leon Scott Kennedy," I said with a nod. "What's Maritza if you don't mind me asking?

"Star of the sea."As she gave a little laugh her nose crinkled, and I think I managed to make her blush with that question alone.

With unexpected smirk on my face I nodded again before saying, "Hopefully I'll see you around."

"Sure, let me know how things downstairs go."

As I reached the stairwell I couldn't help but glance back at the woman, pulled in like a sucker once more for a pretty face. Once I was sure I was standing before Alexei Sidorov's door I decided to use my cop knock; I wasn't too happy to hear from Claire's neighbor that this guy was being an ass to my friend.

"Who is it?" Since he answered right away I assumed that he was the kind of old man that sat in his front room all the time so he could see or hear everything. I was even willing to bet money that his curtains were drawn back.

"Agent Kennedy, I'd like to ask you some questions sir." After that it wasn't long before I heard him remove the chain on his door and he ushered me in with his head down. Any information from him was going to be given begrudgingly, but I just strolled in past him. He locked the door and made his way over to his chair that set next to his couch, and I had to stop myself from smiling once I saw that the curtains were drawn.

The gray haired man offered no refreshments, shit he didn't even tell me to have a seat, but I would have rather stood anyway than have a seat on "grandpa furniture."

His dull, gray eyes were cold once he looked over me; possibly a bit of resentment at the fact that was I wasn't dependent on diapers. He had long bags under those orbs, a still-full head of gray hair was combed back perfectly, and he managed to move around without the assistance of a cane quite well.

"What did you need?" he demanded grumpily, his Russian accent distinct still after who knows how many years in this states.

I suppressed the natural desire to assess my surroundings; not wanting to draw out this visit that I predicted would be unpleasant and one that I would not want to repeat. "Information about a tenant. Claire Redfield."

His disgust was instantly visible on his face, but it would not deter me.

"Have you noticed any suspicious activity?"

Giving a huff he said, "The cunt's noise hasn't gone down any."

"Sir," I said firmly, hoping he would note that I had no intention of joking around today, "Have you seen her?"

For a while he was quiet, and finally he answered with, "No. Not since Tuesday."

After hearing that I needed a seat, but instead I just placed my palm to my forehead and gave a long sigh. "Was there anything strange going on? Any noises?"

"All the time," he eagerly mentioned, dying to complain some more about her, and I could hear it in his voice that he wanted to call her a bad word.

"Mr. Sidorov did you or did you not hear anything before you last saw her?" My patience with him was wearing thin and I hadn't even been in here for that long.

For a moment he hesitated, fidgeting in his chair before finally giving me a straight answer. "She was banging around a lot. I just assumed the whore had another man up there." He knew I didn't appreciate the name-calling, so he ducked his head down for a moment, coming back up with that unconcerned glare.

"Why would you just assume something like that?"

As if he was offended he almost yelled, "Because I saw her leaving with a blond guy on Tuesday morning!"

My eyes lit up at this new information, and the older man noticed, a look of accomplishment showing on his face. I wasn't sure what this meant, but I decided to play the role of a clueless friend.

"You know this man?" he asked, an eyebrow raised high on his forehead.

"Yeah," I stated with a blank expression on my face. "Well I know _of_ him." I tried to be convincing, even going so far as to paste a smile on my face with the pretense that things were totally normal. "I was worried for nothing. Sorry for bothering you," I added before abruptly sweeping out of the apartment. I needed to call Claire.

Before he could even check to make sure that the agent was gone, Alexei's phone rang, and because of his situation he had no choice but to answer. Without any hesitation he grabbed the phone and placed it to his ear, waiting for the caller to identify themselves, and though he had a pretty good idea who it was he could not just start blurting things out without confirmation.

"Sidorov. Any word on the subject?" The voice was produced by a woman, calm and direct.

"No. It was a false alarm. Fucking pretty boy said it was her boyfriend. Had it been the subject he would have been shitting himself. I think he's heartbroken." For unknown reasons Alexei always thought of Claire as a fast woman; the constant partying, the late nights, and how loud she was were indicators at her personality. So of course he assumed Leon to be a suitor of hers, and apparently he had lost the battle to another man. To Alexei that was considered a blessing.

"You must keep an eye on the Raccoon City survivors, Leon is one of them," the voice reminded him.

"Yes. The girl is away with a man, definitely not the subject, and Kennedy…He'll be occupied. I guarantee you that."

* * *

January 7, 2001 Sunday 2:23 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Relieved

"This isn't a norm in Red Lodge," the officer assured us, but I could only role my eyes at Wesker while the burly brunet finished filling out the form on the trunk of his cruiser. I had done my own research on the town and he was telling the truth, but if this was his way of getting me to warm up to the place then sorry man but no cigar. It sucked donkey nuts as far as I was concerned, and the people weren't any better (well that was my judgment since I caught one of the locals attempting to steal from Wesker and me).

After wrapping up our chat with Officer Macready we drifted inside, and I noticed that we were unintentionally appearing like a normal couple whose home had just been broken into. We even went and sat down on the couch together, looking like a scene straight out of a movie, except we were both at our respective ends. I couldn't see myself ever snuggling up close to Albert Wesker for support, even if he had taken care of me while I was a drunken mess. We just sat there though, not speaking, not looking at one another even.

I hated this though: the silence when I needed some kind of comfort, and the comfort that I needed could only be provided by my brother. Now that I thought about that it sounded extremely unhealthy, but he was all I had in my life so of course he was my rock.

"Are you all right?"

I turned my head around so fast that I almost had whiplash. I don't know why his concern surprised me when he had made sure I was tucked into a bed after finding me passed out upstairs. "I'm fine," I answered, my voice sounding raspy. I wanted to cry so badly right now, and him asking me that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Ever since I agreed to accompany him to "Jesus Nowhere" I felt conflicted, and since I got here the feelings of loneliness had piled up so high that there was no way I could continue to carry the burden alone.

His gaze on me he uttered barely above a whisper, "Don't."

He didn't know what to do. He didn't want me to cry because of his own confusion about how to handle such a situation. Being an emotional woman always made matters hard on men, however, since I was playing bodyguard I felt that I had every right to cry and break things based off of my emotions. Being selfless was so difficult for me, especially when the person whose feelings were being considered belonged to a man who I was supposed to hate.

The sound of the telephone ringing brought me out of my depressing thoughts, and since Wesker did not move to answer I got to my feet and made my way to the table behind the couch, expecting Caller I.D. to warn me of a telemarketer.

"I'll bet it's…" My assumption had been so wrong, and I froze once I saw the name. Redfield, Chris.

A/N: I'm short of 20 pages by one but since it's been so long I felt like I NEEDED to update something for y'all. So review, I stayed up until 2:20 AM to finish this even though I have an online Math test tomorrow that will probably take 4 hours so I gotta wake up at 6. So forgive any grammatical errors. Also It's a great time to note that alcohol has not made its last appearance in this story haha!


	4. Posco

A/N: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS (don't mean to yell lol)! And the title means "Request." Also I decided to assign birthdays to the characters because apparently the designers didn't think it was so important to give specific dates (however if they did and my search was not thorough enough I would like to know them). I did it according to the characteristics associated with the zodiac signs, like Wesker's a Scorpio, Claire's an Aries, Chris is a Cancer, and Leon was hard to place but I chose Libra. I even gave Stephanie and Maritza signs in case I need to come up with birthdays for them. Zodiac symbols are pretty much spot on, the Western ones at least, but since I did not grow up in a Chinese culture it's understandable why my Chinese zodiac doesn't fit. One thing I found the zodiac wrong about though were the relationships, I could _NOT _be with a Scorpio, my older cousin is and ha, well if I can't be around a family member who's Scorpio my man definitely couldn't be one. It would be a relationship based on distrust, physical attraction, and the constant crashing and burning wouldn't be worth it so no, the sex kitten and dreamer don't mix horoscope writers! Though my fiancé's a Sagittarius he is extremely faithful, and we work incredibly well. So if you trust your horoscope great but ignore the love and relationship section! And I'm trying to update so that I can keep my mind occupied; on March 27th me and my fiancé's cat, Frappuccino died and I didn't find out until the 30th. It hurt him too and he didn't know how to tell me, but a voice told me that something was going on. Maybe it was her. Also so much more is going on in my life. Like I've been telling my friends I'm surprised I haven't jumped from a building: my relationship, my grades, and my sanity (that I'm afraid is slipping away) are taking a toll on me because it feels like everything is falling apart. I need prayer. Holding it together now, but there are little moments when I almost cry, strangely while watering the flowers _.

Back on topic, there will be sexual frustration in this chapter. It was inevitable, seriously. Who can see that every day, be that close to it, and be like whatever? DON'T LIE. And don't be surprised by the language or sexual themes please (THIS IS YOUR WARNING FOR SEXUAL CONTENT), also to the men, yeah. What I describe Claire going through, believe it or not, women experience this too. Y'all aren't the only ones who feel that weirdly animalistic desire that seemingly comes out of nowhere, the double standard just keeps women from talking about it. But me, I'll go there. Having dated older men I've learned to be blunt about that stuff because they hide nothing. If men knew what women really thought, a lot of men would probably cry, but I've been told it all about y'all ;)

Ultimolu: Lol well that's why we all love Wesker (not because he's trying to kill you). Girls just love bad boys. I like to imagine Wesker with Waugh's voice; Douglas just killed it for me. Wesker sounded like a creepy pedophile with him in the studio. Although I do appreciate his outtake and Old Spice parodies because it's a hilarious thing to see Wesker do.

Lady Snowstorm: I know how you feel. Damn autocorrect on my iPhone makes my messages illegible, so it does the opposite of its purpose.

Spark Of Insanity: I think I'm secretly in love with Leon lol. He's so easy to distract with women, like Manuela (hated her ass) so I said why not throw the dog a bone?

Ilyse: Yeah I love drunken people like that, I made her kind of like me when I'm happy drunk, however when Wesker's drunk I plan to make it hilarious. And I always pictured Claire as a rule-bender. Like in Darkside Chronicles when she's just riding into a town that's burning to the ground like, "Hmm, a bonfire. Oh well, lalalalala." I was like yeah she smokes pot.

Naoko Suki: Yep, the Luomas are the typical manipulative busy-bodies of a town. And it sucks but when new people come out of nowhere and they're not so open people tend to come up with the worst conclusions, but still it's not as bad as what Wesker is truly like so little do they know God won't be judging his ass for adultery but something much worse. And as for the burglar, the crime rates in Red Lodge aren't bad at all but I found that there was a home invasion in '01 and I said hey it's '01 in the story so that can be the break-in of the year lol. And you are very welcome.

Skiptrix: Yes but are they the ones after him bwahahaha! Ahem, but Alexei is ooooold, so he's not the best lookout. And yes I cannot picture Wesker holding someone as they cry. I see him being so awkward like if someone just saw their dog get ran over he'd just look around for a minute before walking off while the kid bawls their eyes out. I decided to use how my fiancé can be as a yardstick for measuring Wesker's response to emotions. Terrible me kind of pushed him to the point where I don't get held when I cry, I get told to stop lol. However, if Wesker's living with a woman he better get used to it, because we have ups and downs ALL month every month. And thanks!

netherlady: Thank you and thanks for putting this story on your alert list. I used to hate first person but it grew on me.

BlueMorpho2: Lol I'm trying to get into and remain in the habit of responding to people who review to me. Also I need to get used to fleshing things out and having longer chapters. And I understand what you mean about the number of reviews. I felt the same way with my other stories and I just think some just prefer to review to some things and some things they like and just don't feel they need to review for it. Also it depends on the fans you're catering to, like Inuyasha fans are a lot more fanatic and they tend to review in large numbers and for about every chapter. It's good to express yourself but also to keep in mind what's going to interest the readers, and in AVC I did what I wanted rather than focus on what the readers would find most interesting. It took me posting another story (this one) to understand the balance. You'll get it, but for now feel at ease that you're getting so many hits, they may not review but they read. : )

skidney: Thank you very much. : )

Onitsu Blackfeather: Lol no, but read this and your wish may come true ;). Thanks, and things are looking up somewhat now that I have a chance to pass my math class with a C. Can't say the same for the rest of my classmates.

Optio

Chapter 4: Posco

January 7, 2001 Sunday 2:23 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Surprised

I looked to Wesker as if he had a say in the matter, however he did not, but without warning him of who was calling I swiped the cordless phone up from the receiver. I was jubilant that someone I knew and cared for who cared for me back was calling to speak with me. "Chris?" I asked, immediately hearing Wesker get to his feet, leaving me alone in the den. As the dark figure walked away I stared at the back of his head, feeling something surprisingly close to disappointment that he was gone. Then I quickly reminded myself that a person of actual importance was on the line and I forgot all about my host for a moment at least.

"Claire?"

"Hey bro," I said with a grin in place, and it didn't matter that he couldn't see it because I was sure it could be heard.

"You sound good, how's it going?" I wanted to lie to him so badly, and I really had no choice but to do just that.

"I'm great, even better now that I'm finally hearing from your big-headed ass." I allowed myself to giggle, hoping that he would do the same since I could sense through the phone that something was bothering him.

"Claire," he began, signaling that his true intent behind calling me was about to come to the surface, "I checked with your school. Why are you taking online classes this semester?" My eyes dropped to the wooden floor, and I felt like if I couldn't pull off this lie then I would be busted. "And where have you been? Leon called and said you took off with some guy?"

The disappointment in his voice made him sound so much like my father, hurting me even more once I realized that my actions had not only made my brother shake his head in shame, but wherever my parents were they were probably as equally disappointed. "I just needed some time away from it all Chris. With online classes I can travel and I'll have the time I need for that. I was marinating in Denver just staying in one spot."

Much to my horror, the lie came so easily or maybe it wasn't as big of a lie as I thought. Now I needed to come clean with myself about my situation back in Denver. Was I really happy sitting there in my apartment alone all of the time? Was I content with my only social experiences consisting of getting drunk and making a fool out of myself in front of my classmates? With those questions asked I found myself thinking that maybe subconsciously I wanted the benefits of being able to escape.

The only distraction I had here was the human Wesker, and he mostly kept to himself. Maybe this town did suck, maybe I hadn't made any friends here either, but there was no traffic, no Mr. Sidorov banging on his ceiling, and no money troubles.

I heard Chris give a sharp sigh on the other end of the line. "Claire, you can't just run off with some guy."

"Chris there's more of us; it's not just me and some guy." Only silence met me, causing me to fear that I had upset him even more, but if I did it was because his feelings were hurt due to my inability to confide in him about whatever was bothering me.

"I'll call you back." Before I could protest I heard the click of finality, and I felt like I would cry.

I couldn't let myself do that though because once I allowed myself to be sucked down into that depression I would remain there and even there I would be alone. For a while I stood there with the phone still to my ear, not feeling like doing anything, and the only reason I decided to place the phone on its receiver was because I knew that the damned operator message would soon begin chirping in my ear. Before I put the phone down though I had heard a distinct click, signaling to me that someone had been listening in on my conversation.

My eyes became slits with this revelation, my rage causing me to bolt for the stairs like a possessed woman and down the hallway to Wesker's bedroom. I banged on the door with the same amount of force I'd put behind a punch, and I didn't let up until it was pulled back. Standing before me with an agitated glare was Albert Wesker, and before I gave him what he deserved I chose to give him three seconds to step back.

"Yes?" He didn't take it.

His intrusion of my privacy was too much for me to take since I had wanted to explode since I got here, and tonight was the night. I did not pull my fist back because he would have seen my attack, so I just put all the strength I had at that moment into my fist. His head flew back as soon as my fist connected with his nose, and he stood there for a moment before he held it to be sure that it was not broken yet again.

"You were listening in on my phone conversation?" I cried, realizing that any trust I had in Wesker was hugely misplaced. I couldn't stop myself after that, and all of the anxiety and misery that had hold of me had piled up too high for me to continue carrying it. I punched, kicked, yelled, and yet he refused to fight back against me. Somehow, despite my best efforts at injuring him, he managed to pin me on his bed, but I was still in attack mode and delivered my knee into his groin.

The punch I received to my stomach was a reflex, and I felt all air as it escaped my lungs. Wesker was on top of me in a heap, seething with his forehead buried in the sheets of his bed while his hands covered his injured bits. Unable to even gasp for the air that I so desperately needed right now, I clawed at the sheets beneath me at least trying to obtain some oxygen, but my ability to inhale through my nose and mouth was gone. Even without super strength he still packed a punched, and being pinned down by him when he threw the blow only added to the power in it. His breathing had become normal now, however, the same could not be said for me; I wasn't even coughing yet.

Once he finally noticed that I was having trouble breathing, he frowned and lowered his mouth to mine, pinching my nose as he supplied me with the air from his own mouth. I was too desperate to care that his lips were upon mine because the act was not intended to be sexual in any way. That seemed to kick-start my lungs, and before he could pull away I began coughing into his mouth, reflexively sitting up as my abs contracted and my body found that it was once more able to breathe.

As he held himself up to look down at me he looked unconcerned despite the fact that I was most likely blue in the face. Behind his shades I saw him blink at me, his demeanor revealing that he was disappointed as he informed me, "I was listening in to make sure that no one else was." He pushed himself up off of the bed, leaving me there with uneven breaths, still unable to wrap my head around being lip to lip with _him_. It couldn't get weirder, but then again, never say something can't get any worse.

January 7, 2001 Sunday 7:00 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Surprised

Chris' reaction to my departure had stung me in a way I'd never experienced, I felt utterly alone despite knowing that he would not be deserting me. Actually that last part made it worse: to be there for someone but at the same time he was not. My actions had been the cause for his disappointment and suddenly I began to let the blame fall onto myself. I intended to remain alone for the rest of the night, sitting on my bed staring at nothing in particular and burst into tears every now and then over something not lost but not entirely there.

My plans to sulk were ruined when I heard a knock at my door, out of shame I hurriedly wiped my wet cheeks before saying, "Come in."

My door inched open and I saw Wesker peek into my room before he actually stepped in, pulling down the sleeves of the black, suit jacket that he donned. He avoided looking me in the eyes, not because of this afternoon, but because my eyes and cheeks were red. I decided to take in the rest of his outfit, black slacks, dress shoes, and the sweater beneath the jacket was black also.

"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice barely audible, betraying the strength I intended to project.

After smoothing out the front of his jacket, almost as if he were trying to elicit a compliment from me, he finally looked into my blue eyes, the whites probably completely bloodshot by now. "The Luomas have invited us out to dinner."

Not even thinking it over I said, "I'm not going."

As if he didn't hear me, he walked over to my closet and stepped inside.

"Did you hear me? I said I'm not going." However, raising my voice did not help, he only pulled a dress from the rack and stepped back out.

Laying a pink, semi-formal dress on my bed, he said, "Wear this." Right after his command he walked back into my closet and then presented me with a black petticoat. "And this."

Silently I'd hoped that he would have left after that so I could barricade myself in, leaving him with no choice but to go without me. He did no such thing though, instead he pulled me up from my bed, or at least tried; I let my body go limp, giving him dead weight to handle. Shaking his head at my stubbornness, he pulled the other half of my body off of the bed, my legs hitting the floor in a loud thump. I gave an "Ow," however; he ignored me and pulled me up to stand.

"Stop being a stubborn ass," he mumbled, gently pushing me to the foot of the bed where the clothes lay. After a minute of staring down at the dress I finally picked it up and carried it to my bathroom without a stitch of confidence in my walk. I tried to take my time by fiddling with my cleavage, the dress fitting me snugly, but I just looked for an excuse to take more time in my preparation. It was beautiful; the fabric was thin and stretchy, crossing in layers at some parts, and it was not hot pink but a pastel shade. I didn't care if it looked like a fancy bandage because it was perfect, and I wondered if someone had helped Wesker in picking out these dresses that I had not requested. I parted my hair on the side, tousling it a little before I stepped back into the bedroom where Wesker stood holding a pair of black stilettos with cloth as the material; leather would have made the outfit more trampy than tasteful.

Tentatively I took the shoes from him, set them on the floor, and stepped into them. A pair of black, hanging earrings was on the table of my makeup area, and I quickly put them on before thinly coating my lips with a light, pink gloss. I was too sad to care that Wesker had basically dressed me, the proof behind that being that he even supplied me with a black clutch to carry. Quickly, I applied my mascara, aware that he was still waiting behind me, but I could sense that he was hoping that I took my time; he had no interest in pleasing the Luomas. With that thought I wondered if Stephanie would be attending, but I didn't need to worry anymore so I pushed the little bitch to the back of my mind.

Before I stood up from my chair I glanced down at my nails, clipped neatly, but they clashed with my attire because they did not shine nor did they possess the impressive, white tips they should have. I felt like I was becoming an entirely different person, wearing makeup and dresses, but I chose to be here and I could just as easily change my mind. Soon classes would start and I would have that as a distraction, so I inhaled deeply and got to my feet. Noticing my strange behavior, the blond picked up my coat for me and helped me into it.

In silence we drove to a small but elegant restaurant, the name continued to escape me so I decided to stop caring. Like a happy couple we entered, our arms linked as we were instantly shown to our seats. We saw Frank and Mary who waved enthusiastically in the booth that we were to be seated in. Pasting on a fake smile I removed my petticoat, the host happily taking it, and I scooted into the booth with Wesker doing the same behind me.

"So nice to see you two," Mary said excitedly, that smile wider than ever if that were even possible. "We ordered red wine if that's ok with you two." It was a statement but her tone made it seem like she was asking us a question.

The nod I gave in response was a lie; I detested wine unless the word cooler was attached to the end. It made my head hurt, and the most fucked up I had ever been was because of those damned crushed and soured grapes, but rich people liked bitter things which may have explained the look on their faces that made it seem like they had broomsticks shoved up their assholes. I had to stop myself from laughing at that thought, and Wesker tried to ignore the chortle that resulted.

The Luomas waited patiently for us to order, I chose some weirdly spelled pasta while Wesker ordered something I'd never even heard of before. We both knew there was a catch to this dinner because they could have simply invited us to their home, yet they chose to take us to a fancy restaurant and insisted to pay the bill no matter what. We made small talk about the recent happenings, and the conversation became tense and awkward once the subject of the break-in came up.

Wiping her mouth with her napkin, Mary abruptly said, "Speaking of the break-in…"

Here we go, I thought to myself, playing with my cheese-drenched noodles before stuffing them into my mouth.

"We have a request. You see, Frank and I are going out of town for a business trip tomorrow. It'll only be two days." I wanted for her to spit out whatever request she wanted to make from her bright, red lips though I had some idea what she would be asking for, however it was so unwelcome that I couldn't even speak it. "Could Stephanie stay with you two while we're gone?"

Wesker continued to impale pieces of his meal, shoveling them down so quickly into his mouth that he had no time to speak, though I'm sure he wanted just that.

"You don't have to," Mary said hurriedly, and I wanted to retort with, "I know." "We know she's an adult it's just, we're worried for her."

Oh boy did I want to take advantage of her false courtesy. As if we were really a couple that made decisions together Wesker looked to me, his blue eyes unguarded by his usual shades, and I could tell that he was telling me that it was my decision. I fidgeted for a moment, thinking of what the consequences would be if I said yes. My door would have to be locked with the key hidden away so Stephanie couldn't get in, I would have to interact with Wesker more than usual, and the computer would have to be frequented much more if we were to continue representing ourselves as people who worked online. The worse lie we'd have to act out though was the illusion that we shared a bedroom.

My disappointment almost showed at that thought, and I stopped myself from slumping my shoulders. Someone would be taking the floor and since it was his room I had the feeling that I would soon learn to appreciate the texture of _real _wood.

Mary inhaled, her mood clearly had changed and she was about to throw down her napkin to signal that this meal was over.

"Sure, it's no problem," I said, acting as though the awkward silence had never occurred. "It's just for two days." I smiled at Wesker, wanting desperately to kick him in his shin underneath the table, it seemed that every choice was being left to me and though it made me feel like Wesker's equal it also made me feel like if something that he didn't like was decided then I would be the bad guy. The Luoma's smiled at us, Frank still silent about the matter and I wondered if he even agreed with his wife's plot. Usually when a man had no say-so it was because he chose to sit back and do nothing, and it meant that he most likely didn't agree with it at all.

Surprising me, Wesker announced, "We shall have the guest bedroom ready by tomorrow." I felt him take my hand in his own, pulling it up as we rested our elbows on the table. Then in a move that was definitely a shock to me, he looked me in the eye and gently kissed the back of my hand. His lips curled into a smile as he asked, "Are you ready to go dear heart?"

My jaw almost dropped to the floor, although because the reaction I had toward him could easily be interpreted as lust I wasn't too concerned about what they would assume it was. I had no misconceptions about Wesker's reasoning behind the sweet gesture, and I'd have been a fool if I thought it was for any other cause but to fool the Luomas. Our range of affection did not stretch far, something that would hurt our ruse's chances at being viewed as the real thing.

I don't recall saying yes, just all four of us at the door getting our coats before we stepped out into the cold and dry air. Once more our company thanked us and said that they would be by in the morning to drop off Stephanie, a cringe-worthy thought. Since wine did not agree with me Wesker was the better one to drive us back to the house, but he sat there for a moment while I took the time to buckle up. His idleness had bothered me though, and when I looked up to ask him what was the matter he leaned down and his pressed his lips into mine.

At first I was surprised and wanted to slap him, the kiss starting off as unpleasant as it did. Two of our teeth suffered from the impact, something that hadn't bothered him, but because of how calm the kiss became (actually at the moment we were merely pressing our lips together) I chose to stay still. He reached up with one of his large hands and gently cupped the side of my face, and it was then that he began to actually kiss me. The moment felt surreal, not in a romantic way, but in a holy-fucking-shit-I'm-kissing-fucking-Albert-Wesker way. It was a moment that you know you can stop, however, you feel like you're in the middle of nowhere, suspended mid-air, and that since it can't be real why fight it.

A cool hand gently took hold of my throat; he used his thumb to massage the side of my neck, his tongue now requesting entrance to meet my own. My eyes fell closed as I gave in, my reluctance to continue such an act with this man was no match for his years of experience. It was not lustful as our tongues massaged against one another, but sensual with the smallest tinge of passion. Soon I felt my panties becoming damp at the cliché that this moment was: innocent girl making out with bad boy in his badass car while big brother was none the wiser. Strange how even the slightest thought of Chris couldn't tear me away from this moment, and I soon felt like a restraint had broken, leaving me feeling free as my body was opening toward the blond.

Much to my dismay he broke the kiss, but then I immediately felt silly because something even better happened when he began kissing my throat and neck. An unexpected sensation below caused me to jerk in surprise and let out an "Ah!" To keep my desire in check I pressed my thighs together tightly, but I squeezed a bit too tight, resulting in an even more intense sensation down there. My eyes remained closed all through this so I did not see him reach down; I only felt his hand wandering up one of my thighs beneath my coat and dress.

For a few seconds he stopped kissing me to whisper into my ear, "The Luoma's are questioning the authenticity of our relationship." It made sense now, but I was too caught up to care that this was all fake. Despite revealing his intentions to trick the spying Frank and Mary he then said something else that sent a shiver down my spine as he began rubbing his hand against the fabric of my panties, "Hmm, how nice." I couldn't feel embarrassment that he knew I was wet because from the sound of his voice I could tell that he liked it.

I threw my head back in ecstasy, grinding my hips slightly to rub myself against his hand, and this unintentional action made me self conscious. I looked around to see if the Luomas were still watching, but their car was nowhere in sight. I turned to tell Wesker that they were gone, but he grabbed me by the neck again and pulled me into one last, quick kiss. With heavy-lidded eyes I stared into those rarely glimpsed orbs of blue, his face showing no distinguishable emotion he put on his seatbelt and started the car.

Only when we pulled off did I realize how cold I'd been.

January 7, 2001 Sunday 9:57 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Disturbed

Even though I'd showered I still felt strange, even worse I still felt hot and bothered by the moment I'd had with Wesker, and that overwhelmed me to the point that it didn't matter who had caused this. We said nothing on the drive home, and I ran upstairs to my room as soon as I got back. I'd looked at my body in the mirror a little longer than usual, and as corny as it sounded I felt a bit sexier than I ever had. I could look at my reflection and appreciate the curves that I had and even though they were not so noticeable my slim body was nice to look at.

As I lie in bed I found it hard to get to sleep. I was fidgeting and too uncomfortable to doze off, and honestly I needed a relief. The shame that I should have felt when Wesker kissed me was only now making a cameo, but I knew I wouldn't be able to stop now that I had started. As I massaged myself I thought of how he continued touching me, continued kissing my neck even after he knew they were gone, and though this could have been a trick to manipulate me into trusting him I didn't care right now. Right now I wanted to throw away all of my morals and all of my taught hate toward Albert Wesker.

I just wanted to be fucked.

The beat of my heart accelerated, my breathing was quick, and I felt that I was about to come. The sound of a floorboard squeaking interrupted me though, and the natural fear of one being caught during masturbation ruined my attempt to relieve myself of my sexual frustration. Quickly, I turned on my side and pulled the covers up to my chin, and I felt that someone was lingering outside of my door, and there could only be one person. Slowly, I got out of my bed and made my way to the door. Almost afraid, I lifted my hand up to the dark wood, letting it set there for a while. As I closed my eyes I heard quiet footsteps retreating down the hallway, and soon after that the sound of a door opening and closing.

Did he know I noticed him?

January 8, 2001 Sunday 9:43 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Annoyed

I rolled over to see what time it was, the birds already letting me know that it was definitely morning, and my clock informed me that I had overslept. I was supposed to be preparing for Stephanie's arrival. Quickly I got out of bed, almost tripping as I struggled with the tangle of sheets, and I opened my door. When I saw Wesker standing there with his hand raised to knock, I almost had a heart attack.

"Oh my God you scared me," I panted, grabbing at my heart.

"Stephanie will be here soon," he informed me, ignoring the fact that I was still grasping at my pounding heart. "Get the things you will need from your room and bring them down the hall." Without further instruction he went downstairs, leaving me to handle moving toiletries, accessories, makeup, and clothes all on my own. He didn't even seem to be affected by what happened last night, but I couldn't let his indifference bother me. The subject would surely come up since we had two days to talk about it, then again he probably didn't care to talk about it. I put my things in my red suitcase and put it in Wesker's room under his bed. I couldn't be too careful in this situation.

After I ate and got dressed I decided to do the courteous thing and put out little bowls of potpourri, and then something struck me: there were no pictures in this house. It kind of made me feel a little sad that the decorative portraits were of unknown and possibly non-existent noblemen and women. Then I saw Wesker come out of the living room, staring down at the same table as I was, and he didn't need to ask me why.

"We don't have any family pictures at all." Through his silence I could tell that he agreed, but he didn't know what to do about that. "Do you even have family pictures?"

His cool voice floated to me a little bit above a whisper. "One would have to have a family to have family pictures."

I didn't bother to further inquire since I knew he would just walk away, so when he did I didn't turn to watch him leave. The sound of tires on gravel caught my ear, and through the blinds I saw a van pull up with an unfamiliar driver and a red Mercedes pulled around the side of it. Before I went outside I grabbed my coat from the night before off of the coat rack by the door, Wesker nowhere to be found.

"Fucker," I muttered, making my way down the front porch to meet Frank and Mary who stepped out of the van tightly bundled up. "Hi," I greeted with an excessive amount of enthusiasm, but I was just so damned sick of being left to deal with these asswipes while Wesker worked on cleaning out the fridge. I received a Judas hug from Mary, taking the opportunity to peep over her shoulder to see who was in the red car. It was Stephanie, and she sat there staring at herself in the rearview, flipping her hair which was looking quite dull today. As a matter of fact she looked like she was hung over which may have been a possibility.

Stupid whore, I thought to myself. Although there was no validation to this, but a woman's usual insults to other women consist of this short list: stupid, whore, slut, and either ugly or fat bitch. She wasn't ugly or fat so I had at least four words to work with. When I pulled away from Mary I heard Stephanie's car door open abruptly, a smile painted on her pouty, pink lips, and there she was validating my thought of her as a stupid whore. Wesker came down to us, his shades in place and that may have been the reason why she was so excited; the shades did make you wonder and…

Ugh, Claire shut up.

Frank managed to crack a smile, trying to cover up for the dirty look he gave his daughter, and he surprisingly gave me a hug as well. "Thank you for this. We know you two need your privacy, this was very nice of you to do."

He could have said this until he was blue in the face, there was no way I believed that he was thankful that we took in his possibly loose daughter.

Finally, able to tear away from the youngest Luoma's schoolgirl stare, Wesker came over and greeted her parents. Oh yeah, he was still a man all right.

"Jeffrey!" Frank took his hand and gave a friendly shake, but Mary seemed ready to go. "Sorry to run but we've got to make our flight."

"No problem," I assured them, lying through my damned teeth which I worried would soon crack if I continued to grind them from being so stressed. Like she was a three-year-old, Stephanie was told to behave for us, and as the van backed out of the driveway they waved her farewell. I said nothing to the teen, hoping that she would at least be civil towards me in my own home… Well it wasn't really mine but she didn't know that.

Wordlessly, she sauntered over to her car and pulled out a worn backpack and then she followed Wesker and me upstairs. I made sure I pretended that I knew which room was meant for her by daringly grabbing Wesker's arm to help me out in my act. He stopped at the first room on the left, inserting a key into the keyhole before turning it to unlock the door. All three of us went in and I tried my hardest not to burst into a fit of laughter; the room was nowhere near the worth of Wesker's or mine. Sure the walls and floor were the same but the closet had a narrow door, there was no private bathroom, no king-sized, canopied bed, and no makeup area. What tickled me so was that she had the audacity to act like such a princess whenever in my presence, but this princess just downgraded in the home of the man she was hoping to impress with her fake skin and sixteen-year-old body.

After she set down her bag next to the twin bed Wesker took no time to inform her of the location of her bathroom. "Your restroom is right across the hall," he said, pointing to the door.

Folding my arms over my chest, I rocked back and forth on my heels, biting my bottom lip trying to find something to say. Something a partner bordering on housewife would say. "I'm gonna go make lunch." Immediately after my announcement I swept from the room to the kitchen, knowing that I didn't give a damn about lunch, hell I barely even ate it, but I assumed that Wesker was going to hold me to my word since he came down to work out not too long after I finally figured out what I would make. After tonight I would have to go to the grocery store, something that maybe wouldn't be too unpleasant since Stephanie was obviously off for the two days she would be _gracing_ _our beautiful home_ with her divine presence.

I decided on a box of dirty rice and some chicken breasts, hoping to impress them with the southern styled rice since it couldn't have been something either of them had every day. Since that would have made a plate look too bare I also decided to add a pack of those mixed, frozen vegetables. Desert was up to them. We had ice cream and a bunch of other crap that I had bought that was still good, so in that area they were fending for themselves. Although they could also drive themselves to get something, the restaurant selections weren't too great around here but I was constantly being told that I had to try the ice cream parlor in town that specialized in doing it up for _real _deserts. Of course this most likely meant it had plenty of chocolate on it.

Like I was actually cooking from scratch I went at it pretty vigorously, glad to be doing something that made me seem useful here, other than just doing the shopping. I thought I saw Stephanie go by while I was cutting the chicken on the counter to the left in the kitchen, so I guess she was trying to make her move on Wesker by doing squats in front of him or something. Strangely though, Wesker left about five minutes after she entered, and after a brief trip upstairs to change he swept past me as I prepped the chicken for the oven. I watched him wordlessly step out through the back door, and a little after he got in his car I heard him pull out.

I guess Stephanie and I will be keeping each other company, I thought glumly. If anything Wesker was a great buffer, my awkwardness in my role was downplayed by the equal amount in his, and this helped with the illusion that this was actually in character for us. An hour later I was done, and a damp haired Stephanie twisted over to the counter to watch me take down a few plates.

"Ready?" Her voice sounded warmer towards me, like she was just tired of being a bitch, and perhaps she felt like there was no need to since she wasn't in "game on" mode. Her prize wasn't here.

Refusing to look at her I said, "Yeah," but I didn't try to sound like a bitch. She just needed to know that I wasn't interested in playing that bipolar, Barbie bullshit with her. With the tiniest smile I handed her a plate, utensils, and a glass to basically let her know that she could serve herself. I saw guilt on her face as she took them from me, and I knew that she understood how her actions affected what could have possibly been a pleasant friendship. She had Mary to look up to as a woman though so I'd be a fool if I said I expected better from her. A child growing up with a person who possessed tact when going about their sneaky, evil ways could see through that shit, something Mary obviously didn't realize so she didn't bother trying to instill that same tact into her daughter.

We ate in silence, not speaking a word until I began washing our dishes. She leaned over the counter, holding herself up on her elbows, arms folded.

When she spoke she tried to sound as innocent and child-like as possible with a high voice that I knew didn't really belong to her. "So you and Mr. Saunders are planning to stay in this town?"

"Why not?"

She gave a single laugh at this. "Red Lodge? Had you even heard of Red Lodge before he said, 'Sara let's shack up in Jesus Nowhere?'" The innocence that she had had been faking disappeared only to be replaced by her real voice, one filled will apathy and dislike. Could you guess for whom?

I was taking my time drying the dishes, not wanting to look her in her eyes because I'd probably end up stabbing her in one of them with a fork. "It's okay here. Away from the city."

I heard her chuckle. "The age difference is okay with you?"

Putting the last plate in the rack I smiled to myself. "It just means he knows what he's doing." The retreating footsteps made my smile become a smirk. Claire: one, Stephanie: zero.

January 8, 2001 Sunday 10:30 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Nervous

After my conversation with Stephanie she went out to a party, and _coincidentally _Wesker got back around the time she left. Since she wasn't here there was no point in pretending that I was up for cooking dinner, and Wesker didn't seem to mind since he just ate some of the meal I prepared earlier. She had come back about thirty minutes ago, trying to be quiet but she was probably too drunk to accomplish that.

I had just come from his bathroom, letting my hair fall freely from the ponytail holder, and I went over to the suitcase that was hidden under his bed to place my things back inside. I wore an oversized Air Force t-shirt that had once belonged to Chris and a pair of pink shorts. Now I was prepared to attempt to get comfortable on the floor between the comforters Wesker had placed down, so I waited for him to finish putting down pillows, but he kneeled down and settled in himself.

"You want me to take your bed?" The disbelief in my voice was clear as a bell, and apparently I offended Wesker by inadvertently insinuating that he lacked the characteristics of a gentleman.

Turning his back to me he murmured, "Go to bed Miss Redfield."

Mouth agape, I stepped over him and knelt down before him, looking at his closed eyes knowing that he was not already asleep. "You're being weird."

"How so?" he asked as soon as my accusation was out, but he was always weird. Just not as weird as he had been since last night.

"Last night was pretty fucking weird _Jeffrey_."

Eyes still closed, he gave a smirk at my confusion, most likely proud that he had caused me to become upset. "Red Lodge must believe we're a couple. What if someone saw us abruptly cease our activity in the car?" When I didn't answer he said, "Read nothing into our actions committed under the guise of Sara and Jeffrey."

Offended by this, I angrily got to my feet and turned off the light, noisily getting into the bed. I was glad he expected nothing out of me but it wasn't necessary that he say it like that.

Tauntingly, he said, "Goodnight Miss Redfield."

Rather than satisfy him by supplying him with a snarky reply I rolled over so my back could face the side of the bed that he was next to. Unnerved as I should have been since I was sleeping in the same room as Wesker, I couldn't fight sleep, but I honestly didn't want to. Our ruse was taking a lot out of me since being conscious of it all of the time was a must. Hell, the darkness was welcomed, and I slept deeply for a long time until something strange disturbed me.

There was something in the bed with me, however I felt that I was in no immediate danger, but it was strange where this something was. Figuring that I should check it out I looked down to see a large form beneath the sheets, this was not what I expected, but as I opened my mouth to call out to Wesker I felt my panties being pulled down. Then I felt something. "Ah!" I knew Stephanie would probably hear it, but I didn't care because whatever this was, it felt great. My panic no longer existed because I knew who this was, my suspicions being confirmed when I peeked under the covers to see a head of blond hair moving back and forth.

I bent my knees and in response Wesker wrapped either of his hands around my thighs to pull me farther down to him. Dropping the covers back down I gave a gasp. All I could do now was say his name as I drew closer and closer to the moment. He sent me into the best orgasm I'd ever had, and I thought I had been doing a good enough job for myself but this put my efforts to shame. As the contractions continued I jerked up, panting.

The sun was shining in on me as it had the morning after the party, making this moment feel like déjà vu, and I felt even more awkward that I was once more waking up in his bed. Then I remembered why I woke up, wishing that the dream would have just vanished as if it had never happened. Then again a Pysch class had pretty much taught me that this was bound to have happened sooner or later. I'd had a sex dream about Albert Wesker.

Feeling guilty, almost like the whole world had a screen to view my dream, I peeked over the side of the bed to make sure that he suspected nothing. The blond lie unbothered and untouched by the sun, making me so relieved that I fell back against the pillows, willing and ready to go back to sleep. I just prayed that the desire that we felt in my dream remained that way, and that neither of us acted on a silly brain trick. That's all that it was. Just a trick.

A/N: I cut this short because I hadn't updated in so long. SORRY I HAD TO DO SOMETHING SO I'LL TRY TO MAKE A FUTURE CHAPTER LIKE 30 PAGES! I felt that there was no need in drawing out something happening. Though I feel I must warn you readers that they are feeling no emotional attachment. After all it's only been a week, but time will skip by faster because it's been inching along. Wesker is a man with money, power, and manly needs (and she's portrayed as a hot female), while Claire is a young woman living with a handsome, older man when she's not supposed to be, and that is why I said it was inevitable. I don't think I'm rushing this and here's why: nothing else is going to happen like this between them for about three chapters, if we're lucky two. I'm not trying to give Claire this revelation that she loves Wesker, just get it into her head that she's a 21-year-old virgin who has the opportunity to lose her virginity in a strangely ideal situation. How is it ideal? Majority of the time a relationship with a man who a woman gives herself to, it DOES NOT last, I understand this and when I was 17½ I understood it. To me, the mature way to go about this if you know something is not going to last but you're ready (difficult to figure out when because at 16 girls have no idea what they want and it's the worst age to make ANY decision) and you're damn sure that's a good pick then go for it with the understanding that your relationship with that person will not become too different or awkward when it's over. Wesker's relationship with Claire wouldn't change, hurtful, but not as hurtful as, "Claire I love you, but this can't work so we can't see each other or be friends at all. Thanks for your virginity though." So is Wesker a dog? Maybe he's just making lemonade. I just wanted to clarify that this was not them becoming a couple and that Claire knows the difference between lust and attraction. Like I said, in this story she's a 21-year-old virgin and women get the urge to have sex too. It's how we're wired, women's bodies want to get pregnant, but it doesn't mean we do, we just want the sex. When Wesker _does_ care about her trust me y'all will see it, and I already know how I'm going to do it so it'll be soon when things actually change between them. Won't be love but it'll be something and he'll be very disappointed with what she does to bring this on. And I say about 3 chapters because I will try to write some of the next one about Leon. And just a note, I base a lot of Stephanie's characteristics and bad attitude off of Stephanie Johnson from the soap Days. I hated that bitch, so glad she's gone. Now review!


	5. Ludus

A/N: IN THE BOTTOM OF THE BOTTOM A/N THERE'S SOMETHING I NEED YOU ALL TO READ. Thanks for the reviews and adding me and my story! More bad news: a Trojan virus was trying super hard to infect my computer by posing as this fake ass new security system for Windows. Nothing to worry about but I bought Norton, ugh for $72! My friend's is doing the same thing except she has a Mac and ha, it should be a simple system restore to fix this problem but uh they require the disk whereas Toshibas don't. People who make computer viruses, you suck! And I'm trying to get this chapter down but for some reason my brother is all in my damn laptop screen _

AND IMPORTANT NOTE TO TGOE AND AVC READERS: After some thought I decided that I should revise both TGOE and AVC. Looking at this story in comparison I feel somewhat ashamed to have those works up with the knowledge that I wasn't always giving my all. I am not sure when I will begin but I will start with AVC and go through the sequels then I will I guess I'll work on TGOE. The flare for that story is just gone.

Ok, shout out time! And "ludus" means "game." Thank you all reviewers you make me feel good! Thanks for also adding me and my story but don't be too shy to review as well ;)

Also warning of Leon/OC! However, even though I said most of this would be about Leon I'm not sure if I can keep that promise. We'll see how it turns out.

Biohazard Queen: Thank you very much.

Spark Of Insanity: Well we don't want you to overdose. After all, crack is a hell of a drug lol.

Lady Snowstorm: I understand but thanks for taking time to review.

Naoki Suki: I never had many bleach blonde friends myself though I don't like to judge based on that trait because not everyone with that certain characteristic is the same. One of my best friends is a natural blonde though and she's so adorable. She's about as tall as me so it just adds to it lol. And thanks I got a B in Psych 209 and I'm still waiting to hear back about Math.

Ilyse: Glad I wrote something quote-worthy. : )

Skiptrix: Thank you, I'm sure she's happy in kitty-heaven; she was the ideal pet, just slept and wanted to cuddle (sadly me being upset with my man led me to remember that she didn't have to die and terrible things were tweeted so the phone had to go off because I got all emotional). Sara is pronounced like the name Sarah, just no h at the end. Oh yeah there'll be angry Wesker lol. I just don't wanna make him too angry. Most of the time he's written so angry that if a cloud passes overhead he's like, "CHHHHRRRIIIIIISSSSSSSS!"

Olivia-B52007: Thank you! Here it is!

EllielBones- I pm'd you ;)

ayeXliz- Thank you so very much

BlueMorpho2- Idk what I wanna do with Byron. I did think up a nice scenario with much yelling though. Other than that he's had one mention in the story before the little preview. Wesker won't like him I can tell you that though.

Disclaimer: Can't even remember if I've been doing these… Oh well I don't own Resident Evil or its characters, Dreamcast, Playstation, Nintendo, or TGI Fridays. I do own Maritza, the Luomas, and any other original characters though. Also, the Jack Daniel's burger, I have no idea when it first was invented so sorry if they weren't around in 2001 I can't find a menu from then.

Optio

Chapter 5: Ludus

January 8, 2001 Monday 12:25 PM

Subject: Kennedy, Leon Scott

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Anxious

I was still in Denver, now I had nothing to do though, and since Chris had gotten in touch with Claire there was nothing for me to investigate. But it wasn't like I wanted Claire to be missing. I just wanted her ass here. The thought of my absent friend had reminded me that I didn't fill her neighbor in on her whereabouts, so I decided to head out to the apartments since I didn't get her number.

I contemplated taking my debit card with me; I was debating whether or not I should ask her out. I might as well have some kind of fun here. As soon as I put on my jacket I dashed down the hallway to the elevator of the hotel where I was staying, and I hurried over to the apartment complex. I had no idea if Maritza was even at home right now, yet I decided to chance it and see if she was. The memory of my unpleasant visit to Mr. Sidorov's made me grimace as I headed to the stairwell & made my way up quickly. It was then difficult to fight the smile that crept along my face as I stood before her door with my hand up to knock, making sure to remind myself that this was not business so the cop knock was unnecessary.

I waited a bit, nervous that she wouldn't answer but if she didn't I knew there was a part of me that would have immediately jumped to the conclusion that she just didn't give a shit enough to answer for me. Then I heard the chain sliding from its resting place, my reaction was to "act" cool.

"Leon!" she breathed excitedly once she saw that I was her visitor, and once more that little voice chimed that I play it smooth.

"I thought you should know that everything with Claire is fine, she's traveling with friends." I had to remember to smile now. I also took the time to notice how hot she looked right now. Her black hair hung in loose, natural curls that almost reached down to her naval, a tight, white wife beater hugged her hourglass figure, and her pair of dark jeans was worn _very_ tightly. Something else definitely stood out to me though: she had implants, a factor that was no problem for me, and I actually found it cute that she was so small with such large "assets." As a male I couldn't help but take all of this in about her, and the fact that she was racially ambiguous was a turn on in a mysterious way.

Her voice reminded me that I had to be somewhat professional, at least until she agreed to go out. Thank God. We decided to head out to a TGI Friday's on East 49th Avenue, Maritza being the one to drive since she knew the way and I wasn't trying to wreck my government issued rental looking for a restaurant in my attempt to get some. It was cold outside, thankfully not snowing though. I wouldn't have been used to the weather here anyway seeing as I was unable to actually live in Colorado because of the Raccoon City incident.

In all honestly it kind of turned me off to living here; no matter how lovely of a place it was, just knowing that the hole in the ground that was Raccoon City was not too far away made me remember the horror every second that I was here. Lost in my thoughts I failed to pay attention to the directions, and next thing I knew we were pulling into a parking space, but she didn't seem to mind that I was quiet.

Out of courtesy she asked, "Are you ok?" Her hazel eyes were alight with what could have been worry.

Offering her a crooked grin I reassured her with, "It's nothing."

"Nothing wouldn't have you staring off into space." Her voice was gentle, no trace of an attitude anywhere, but she was certainly hinting that she knew whatever was on my mind was not something that could just be pushed aside.

We went inside after I promised to spill what was on my mind, everyone knew about it so why shouldn't I have told her that I was involved a little bit more than others. And though I had just met her something about her was so genuine and real that I felt I needed to go into further detail about the results of my involvement and survival.

Just looking at her, I had a feeling that I'd be visiting Denver a lot more.

She ordered a salad with sweet tea and lemon, typical chick thing to do on the first date, and I being the American I am got a Jack Daniel's burger and a mug of beer. Our drinks came first of course, and she would take a sip every now and then but I chose to wait to take a swig of mine.

She tilted her head forward, trying not to be rude by verbally pressing me to speak on what was bothering me. I adjusted myself in the booth before looking into her eyes that showed she was willing to listen to every word intently.

Though I'd been through it I had to exhale deeply to once more recount the incident, but I would not go too far into detail on the matter just yet with her. "I'm a survivor of the Raccoon City Incident."

It never got easier saying those words.

Her eyes went wide, her mouth slightly parted, and I could tell she was eating up the fact that she was sitting here speaking with someone who had made it through such an impossibly real circumstance.

"What really happened?" She sounded intrigued more so than terrified, which was better than the latter since most women would want nothing to do with me after finding out that I was involved with that nightmare. Maybe it had to do with them thinking my mind had been fucked to all hell and I howled in the night while wetting my bed. Or maybe they just thought that it was dangerous to even be seen with someone who bore the scars of Raccoon City and the aftermath of a careless conglomerate pharmaceutical company that they depended on from diapers to defense.

Though my mother had told me it was rude I needed to be cut slack as I placed my elbows on the table to rest my back. God knows even giving a summary of this was hell on me.

I cleared my throat and continued. "It started in a laboratory, and the virus was eventually brought to the Arklay Mountains to a secret lab beneath the mansion they had hidden deep within the forest. There was an outbreak of the virus, dogs that had escaped were infected, and they infected whoever they came across. Those victims returned to the city, and began feeding upon the citizens, and to make things worse S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team had lost contact after being dispatched to obtain the dead man walking: Billy Coen. Out of Bravo only one member survived and successfully made it off of another infested island. Alpha was dispatched next to rescue the surviving members of Bravo, of course when they first headed out there were four of them still alive."

My eyes had left her face and wandered down to my clasped hands; I hadn't realized how hard I had been squeezing them.

"So the other three died? It wasn't bad was it?'

At that my head snapped up, and I was unintentionally projecting rage towards her through my tone. I didn't know them, I wasn't there, but I knew the story all too well thanks to my curiosity and friendships with two of the surviving members of S.T.A.R.S. (Rebecca and Barry). "Kenneth's head was almost ripped off, Forest was pecked to death by crows, and Richard survived the attack of a giant snake only to be finished off by a shark."

My intention wasn't to scare her, but I did. I just couldn't believe that she actually though anyone went peacefully. "It turned out that S.T.A.R.S. was sent there for the collection of Combat Data against Bio Organic Weapons by their captain, Albert Wesker who had been working for Umbrella since he was a kid. All for the virus that caused the outbreak that led the President to take action of a nuclear quarantine. Bravo went in with seven members but only one made it out. Alpha 6, four came back, but Brad was killed during the outbreak in the city and Wesker doesn't count as alive."

I quickly added, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"How did you fit into all of this?" she asked innocently, leaning over the table.

"I was a rookie with the RPD. I kinda partied hard and I showed up late my first and last day of work there. It was a mess, and that's where I met Claire. She was there looking for her brother, one of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members. We began finding things out: we met a little girl whose father was partially responsible for the mess, she needed our help. We even found out that the police chief Brian Irons was actually a serial killer."

Intentionally, I left out Ada. "It was a battle to get Sherry a cure. Her father had… done something that put her in danger. Birkin was on Umbrella's hit list because of his virus, and while he had some life left in him he injected himself with a remaining syringe, thinking it would save him. He wreaked havoc on the town, but what he did to Sherry… I know it wasn't a conscious decision; he had lost control. When I made it out I was immediately taken into custody by the United States Government and given no choice but to work for them."

Shocked by my story, she shook her head and asked, "What happened to the little girl?"

I shrugged pathetically. "We don't know. Maybe Umbrella?"

"And you can never leave?"

"Until I'm used up and then some," I said, giving in to the urge to take a swallow of my beer.

"It's not over." I looked up and saw her fishing around in her purse until she produced a silver compact with the Umbrella logo on the bottom.

I pushed it back towards her, signaling that she needed to put it away. "Their stocks are plummeting but they're still in business, and since they're doing about the same in less developed countries they're still afloat."

"All right," a familiar voice announced. Our redheaded waitress set out plates out in front of us, announcing the names of our dishes to ensure she was delivering us with the right meals. "Is there anything I can get you guys?"

Maritza swiped up her compact and held it up to the waitress. "Yes, could you get rid of this for me please?" she politely requested. As if it would bite she pinched it between her thumb and middle and pointer fingers. Apparently she was no fan. With a sense of satisfaction Maritza looked at me, possibly hoping that the gesture had made me feel more at ease, and she was right.

I looked down at my burger and fries, now feeling that I deserved to indulge myself. "Looks good."

January 8, 2001 Monday 1:34 PM

Subject: Kennedy, Leon Scott

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: At ease

I got to know Maritza quite a bit from our time at the restaurant. I learned she played video games and preferred that and cooking to going out. Honestly from a guy's standpoint there's nothing better than being able to fuck your best friend and cook, well if it came to that that is. She was an only child; her father came from Italy while her mother was Panamanian, and when I found that out it was a done deal. Call me a sucker for exotic women.

She worked as a Call Center Analyst, making six figures a year due to the fact that she was trilingual. As I walked her to her door I asked, "So why are you living here?"

After unlocking the door she looked up at me and whispered, "Because I'm twenty-two, single, no kids, and no responsibility other than my work."

I raised an eyebrow at how she chose to keep things simple, and honestly I admired that.

She slipped in through her doorway and asked, "Coming?"

I was thrown for a loop, but I entered anyhow, trying to figure out how she went from the aggressed to the aggressor.

"I saw you sipping your beer modestly," she called from her kitchen area. "Want a bottle?"

"Sure, thanks." I locked her door behind me and began taking in what the room that was her den. I had seen a picture of Claire's place and Maritza's was set up differently. Perhaps it was even slightly larger. A black. leather armchair was to my right, and the matching couch was sitting with its back to the kitchen area. A 32-inch flat screen was set into an entertainment system that was inhabited by game consoles. There was a Dreamcast, a Playstation, and a Nintendo system. There was even a stereo system that she more than likely had hooked up to the TV.

"Sit down," she ordered me once she saw me gawking and she came over to set two beers down on the glass coffee table in front of the couch. Since I'd most likely be there for a bit I removed my coat and she took it to the closet next to the door without a word. After removing her own she made her way back over to me and we sat together with enough space between us to ensure that no unspoken rules of proximity were broken.

"How much longer you gonna be here?" The black-haired woman took a swig of her beer, showing that she was now comfortable enough in my presence to drop the dainty act.

I took a gulp, "Um, two more days after tonight. Business got handled a little too quickly."

Maritza only nodded, not pushing to know what I was there for in the first place. "You reside in D.C.?"

"Sadly."

"And why is that sad?" she asked, possibly hoping that my answer would involved her and some sweet line to get me into her pants faster. She was right.

I took another gulp of my beer, almost done with it already. Damn I needed to slow down. "Because it's gonna be harder to get back up here for another date."

She smiled at me, a sweet smile not showing any teeth, and I knew I needed to be the one to make the first move. I set the brown bottle down and scooted over to her, the action of her lifting her face telling me that she knew what I was planning on doing, and that she wanted it. My lips met with hers, and instantly our tongues were battling against each other, vying for dominance.

Boldly, I let a hand wander up her wife beater, to my surprise I was met with the feel of toned abs. Never had I seen a woman in person who had managed to get her body fat down so low, not even during my training. In my surprise she had managed to gain the upper hand, pushing me off of her so that she could straddle me. She raised her shirt over her head, revealing a black bra that concealed the two things that had caught my attention earlier.

Since I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon I took this time to further inspect her body, and I saw she only possessed a four-pack which was good because I didn't want her to always be dominating me.

My staring was noticed. "I take my health very seriously," she said with a grin.

Soon there wasn't much to say other than, "oh," "ah," and a few times she had to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from giving me the satisfaction of hearing her moan my name. She had been in control yet she was losing herself to me, and the proof of that was when she barely gave me time to put on a rubber.

Normally I didn't fuck on the first date, but for this girl I had to make an exception. Neither of us was ashamed in the end. She just stared after me longingly when we awoke from our doze, not satisfied until I said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

January 10, 2001 Thursday 8:16 AM

Subject: Redfield, Chris

Location: Classified

Status: Fine

"I swear to God Redfield, this better be good." Jill angrily took her seat next to me at the long, black table that was usually reserved for the big dogs.

"What do you have to do on a Thursday Valentine?" I asked, flipping through the tabloid I smuggled in from the lounge; I knew I'd be waiting for a while. "What is this crap? Who doesn't know Angelina Jolie's a freak by now?" I threw the cheaply constructed magazine down, swiveling in my chair a bit to take a look at my partner. She looked tired, her hair fell lifelessly around her face, her plump lips were chapped, and her eyes were puffier than they usually were.

"What's wrong with you?"

Her face twisted up into a scowl and she raised her arms only to drop them in exasperation. "It's fucking eight in the morning Christopher! You don't exactly look too hot yourself."

With a grin I remembered that she had been in this weird mood for a few days now, so I just chalked it up to her monthly visitor being around the corner. "You didn't sleep did you?" I asked with a smirk, resting my chin in my hand. The brunette rolled her eyes at me, giving me an answer: no. "It's 'cause I wasn't there to help huh?"

That earned me a slap in the arm. I mocked being in pain, something that eventually made her crack a smile.

"Here," I offered her my bottled water, I had already chugged down one earlier, and she looked like she didn't even bother throwing a waffle in the toaster.

Rather than get upset about the underlying meaning of my gesture she took the plastic bottle and said, "Thank you."

In return I smirked, watching her sip slowly.

She made it halfway through the bottle before she stopped and turned to me. "So what's this about?"

"We're meeting with a company that recently pulled out any stock they shared with Umbrella. Ripped their contracts to shreds too."

A look of relief swept over her tired face.

Jill was tired, not just from having to wake up so early after being out late. This constant fight against bioterrorism was potentially turning ugly, and it seemed things initially held in labs may have been about to spill out into the streets. Much to the people's ignorance the Black Market existed, it just wasn't set up in a back alley in New York with curtains for doors and a blood-drenched merchant unwilling to remove a provisional mask. The pharmaceutical Black Market especially had no base, but instead was comprised of a chain of greedy, crooked doctors that met in cafés, subways, and even church events. Ever since the United States Government got a hold of it there were people willing to endanger their country for the love or need of money.

"Did you find out where Claire is?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but she may have just predicted that I was getting myself upset again.

"Road-tripping with some friends and her _boyfriend_." I spat the word out with such distaste. I mean I guess he was her boyfriend, or as a matter of fact I hoped that he was because if there were more guys with them and… Oh my God I can't think of that right now.

"Boyfriend?" Even Jill who was not related to us knew that this sounded odd. Claire was never one for male companionship.

Not saying I thought my baby sister was a lesbian, she just never showed interest in wanting a man as a love interest. So I came to accept that maybe she was just a person that didn't enjoy people period, and there are many men and women out there who just find the prospect of a relationship superfluous. Hell, sometimes I thought like that, which is probably why Jill hated me twenty-three percent of the time. To the female species a title meant something. It was security that I could not give her though, not when there was no guarantee I would always make it out alive.

God it must have hurt her to be made love to by a man but never hear him _say_ it.

"Who is it?" She played with the plastic bottle while I pinched the bridge of my nose to signal my annoyance with the fact that I had no idea.

"Never heard mention of him, and no name."

"You didn't ask?" The volume of her voice rose significantly once she had heard that _I_, Chris Redfield, Nosey Brother Extraordinaire didn't know the guy's social and vaccination records.

"I couldn't. She's just _really_ starting to piss me off Jill. It's like she's pushing me at this point." I held my head in my hands as a migraine manifested itself inside of my skull.

My partner cleared her throat, about to say something helpful, but the sound of the double doors to our right opening brought an end to our personal conversation. Brunet men in suits all piled into the room, looking almost the same strangely, but the very last man stuck out the most. He had on a suit as well, but he looked like he had no idea how to wear it, it was as if he just wore it because it was expected of him.

The sore thumb's hair was completely white, tied back into a ponytail with a strand hanging freely, but what made him so distinguishable was that he had the sight of only one dull, gray eye. The other was shut and had been for an unknown period of time, but a scar trailing from his eyebrow to the bottom of it gave a clue as to what may have happened.

It was obvious that Jill was trying not to stare, and neither was I.

In a thick and untainted Russian accent he said, "Greetings comrades. The meeting may commence."

January 10, 2001 Thursday 1:16 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Confused

"So, we have a piano now." Wesker stood somewhat proudly next to me near the doorway of the living room, and I tried to be optimistic just for the sake of being nice but I wasn't so sure about where his head was right now. "I mean I can't play but it's nice. It's very… black." The subtext read, "Like everything else you own."

Since the Luomas returned and Stephanie left-thank God her last day here she shut herself in her room-I had not seen much of Wesker and really there were only so many places he could have been. This convinced me that this house harbored secrets that I was not being let in on. It wasn't like I wanted to be his friend or anything but I did everything alone: grocery shopping, watching the news, working out, and I did the cooking most of the time. The only time I had any damn company was when we ate.

I was his bodyguard not his fucking assistant!

Speaking of food I was starving. My metabolism was through the roof ever since I was thrown into a house with a gym. "I'm gonna go to Subway."

Surprisingly he turned to me and asked, "Do you mind if I join you?" Okay well it wasn't much of a surprise since food was involved.

I agreed to let him join me since it was best that we be seen together a little more, but the stares we got were very unwelcomed so we both looked to each other and silently made an agreement that we should take our subs to go.

Back at the house we ate in peace, not even looking at one another, but after we both finished I decided to start up a conversation with him. It would more than likely lead to me being shut down but it didn't matter; I just wanted an answer and at least an argument would have been different.

"So you gonna tell me about your little secret rooms?" More confidence exuded me than even I expected and it was something that scared me. I didn't want to sell myself short but damn it I surely wasn't going to snivel in the face of another _human_.

His mood was clearly an unpleasant one. "I don't have to tell you anything Miss Ivanov."

"So you wanna play that game Jeffrey?" My tone was mocking, and my voice was strong. I was sick of being alone and then being shut out only worsened the matter for me. "If I'm your girlfriend maybe you should tell me."

"I knew eventually the Redfield in you would once again proceed to grate on my final nerve."

He shocked me with that one. We had somewhat been getting along lately but there was just something that upset me whenever he brought up my family name to use it as a reason as to why I behaved a certain way. He made it seem like we were his gypsies and that we were second class citizens standing next to the great Wesker clan assuming there was one. I highly doubt someone like him could have been loved as a child since he could switch on the asshole switch as soon as he was questioned. Then again maybe it had already been on which would explain his withdrawal from any type of contact with me.

In his creepy, secret hidey-holes of the house there was no telling what he was doing, and if he had a little science project going on it was obvious that any failures were going to be upsetting to him.

The prospect of him working here did not make me happy, as a matter of fact my blue eyes shot open. "You're not working here are you?"

Balling up his sandwich paper he got to his feet and I could hear the forced boredom in his voice as he said, "What I do in my home is none of your business Miss Redfield."

As I sat there baffled that he saw nothing was wrong with doing a little mixing and making here and there he started for the kitchen, but I was up out of my chair faster than you could say bio-weaponry. "It _is_ my business if there's a possibility that I could wake up with a half-brained cannibal standing over me drooling!"

His steps faltered, but only for a few seconds, and he was on the move again.

There was no way in hell he was going to walk away from me so I was quickly on his heels as he made his way to the den. "You can't just ignore the fact that I went through hell all because your precious Umbrella failed to do its job: protect!" Like any man he made his way to the couch and turned on the television, except his choice of viewing was CNN.

"I'm living here too!" I practically shrieked, knowing that there was no way he was possibly able to ignore me." The sad part of this was that the emotions I was displaying were very much real, the fear, the anger, and anything else that came up. I didn't want Hunters growing in the basement or the moths growing so large that they required a guest house, and I knew all too well that after Umbrella fucked up the first time it was just the beginning a huge clusterfuck.

My screaming had managed to affect him though; he just delayed his reaction by five seconds. The TV shut off and he jumped up, turned around, and smashed the lamp on the table behind the couch onto the floor. Seething, shaking, he grabbed hold of the back of the couch and gripped until I thought his closely nails would manage to pierce the leather. "For how much longer?" he hissed, his eyes burning behind his shades, and it was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable.

My silence provided him with the moment he needed to get in his lately failed quota of berating a less intelligent being, and I was on the receiving end tonight. "I live in this house," he said slowly, like I was a dog that he was scolding for pissing on the rug and he was attempting to explain exactly why it was wrong. "I. Am. Human. Your help was employed for my safety. Why would I place myself in the face of danger?"

Tears glistening in my eyes I simply replied with, "Because you know how to handle these things Wesker."

His jaw finally relaxed, and he turned around and sunk into the leather couch, providing me with the first instance of him practicing bad posture.

My body was still tense, and I still had more to say because right now I believe I had him thinking. I didn't survive Raccoon City or Rockfort because of my skills at combat or ability to solve intricate puzzles that made no sense in relation to their location or the history of it. I made it because of that Redfield luck everyone promoted like it was a hot commodity. There was no reason I should have survived both events, and I'd bet money that if this all was a book, or a show, or a game that I would have been that insignificant character that was killed off just because I served no real purpose.

"I shouldn't be alive today," I whimpered, disappointed in the crack in my fortress of defense. "And if someone were to ask me, 'Claire do you think you'd survive another outbreak?' I'd say no chance in hell. You don't know what it's like to be living on luck."

My assumption was apparently too bold, and all too wrong. Rather than continue this argument the blond got to his feet and made his way upstairs.

Then I thought long and hard as I stood alone amongst the broken glass before being hit with what could have only been a revelation. Albert Wesker would have never revealed such a thing to me: He walked, spoke, and breathed because of luck.

For the next three days we said nothing to one another except when we finally accepted the Luomas' invitation to their church. Our game of house was unaffected by our home life avoidance mainly because the falsity of Mary rubbed off on us so easily. At the church brunch we used my real-life problem as an explanation as to why my mood seemed soured: I was feeling sick as a dog. Maybe it had to do with me showering and then disregarding common sense to step out into the cold, January air with a wet head. Fears of pneumonia plagued my mind but I lived with a scientist so it was most likely for nothing (I had had an aunt who warned us that wet heads coupled with cold air resulted in pneumonia).

He'd kissed me on the cheek when he feigned worry in front of our audience, and I was too sick to stare daggers at him. I was also too baffled by the townsfolk who insisted on being so near me while I was ill, what if I had had some sort of crazy colored fever?

"Somebody may be expecting a little Jeffrey," someone teased, but I only smiled in a conjured up sense of embarrassment.

After more lame pregnancy jokes and Mary's obvious desire that this not be true, "Jeffrey" and I went home, riding in silence. A few times it looked like Wesker wanted to say something but he didn't, and I figured that maybe he didn't know how to apologize or request an apology either. As soon as we opened the kitchen door I ran to my bathroom, unsure of whether or not I was going to puke, but just when I made it to my toilet I did just that.

My toilet bowl was soon filled with all I had just consumed, and the sounds of my gagging and coughing were loud enough to be heard from downstairs. I felt my stomach knot up again, but I wasn't fast enough to hold my hair back and the contractions in my stomach demanded that I steady myself by grabbing hold of something. Just when I thought I'd have to wash bile and breakfast from my hair I felt a slight tug at my scalp, and I emptied my stomach of any of its remaining contents. A hand patted my back either gently or awkwardly before presenting me with a towel. With what little energy I had left I dried the tears of exertion of my face and began wiping it free of the throw up.

The hands that had helped me belonged to Wesker, and he handed me the glass from my sink that was now filled with water and antiseptic. I took a huge gulp and swished it around in my mouth before spitting it into the toilet bowl with what I considered wasted food, and right after that I was relieved of the glass and towel. I would have fallen asleep had the sound of the toilet flushing in my ear not frightened me.

"Let's get you to bed," Wesker grunted, picking up my dead weight. Damn this was becoming an annoying pattern. Rather than lay me in the bed he sat me at the very foot, making sure I wouldn't topple over into the wooden floor face first. He then disappeared into my closet, returning with an oversized tee, a pair of pajama shorts, and a pair of fuzzy socks.

"Put these on," he commanded, but his tone made it sound more of a request. I groaned a protest, but we both knew my church clothes were too uncomfortable for me to be sleeping in.

"I have school tomorrow," I moaned, removing my fancy dress and heels.

"Yes dear heart your books are downstairs next to the couch." His back was turned as I changed, and when he thought I was done he turned back around to help me into the bed. "No fever," he announced after touching the back of his hand to my forehead. "I'll get you some medicine."

And I guess he did. Whenever I woke up I must have groaned loudly because my bedroom door would open, and he would come to insert a spoon into my mouth. A few times he forced me to take sips from a bottle of water. This care was much appreciated, but I can't say it was unexpected. After all he had no choice but to take care of his caretaker. The day was gone soon as I was medicated the whole way through, applesauce being my only sustenance since I could barely lift my head. And I hoped that I would sleep the whole night away despite slumbering the whole day.

Sick or not, I had classes to attend to.

January 14, 2001 Monday 2:53 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Sick

I wasn't sure that I had heard anything; still I was compelled to get out of my bed warm bed. Maybe it was a slight auditory hallucination that had been brought on by my exhaustion, but even if that were the case I decided to tip down to the den and I became more awake and I realized that the sound was the piano. The song was Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, the first movement. I could only hope that it was Wesker playing the music, but even though he had ordered for a piano I had no idea if he possessed the ability to play one. As I neared the living room doorway I noticed how dimly lit it was, a small electric lantern casting shadows over the rug on the floor.

Holding the doorframe to support my still-weak body, I stared at Wesker's profile, noticing that he played with his eyes shut and a look of piece veiled him. He was completely cut off from the world and I took great notice of his intimacy practiced with the keys, each touch from his long, pale fingers producing its own melodic sound that blended and wove with its predecessor and the following note. I myself let my eyes close gently, feeling that same peace that appeared to envelop the pianist who was seemingly unaware that he had an audience. Never had I imagined that he possessed both the skill and emotion to reproduce such beauty.

Though I could have easily given in to sleep that was not my intention, it was to merely enjoy something peaceful created by _him_. Chill bumps rose on my arms and the back of my neck once I immersed myself in the music completely, not at all contemplating which parts specifically pertained to sorrow, joy, or what have you, but just being.

Then the music had ended, the movement was finished, and I was left without a clue as to how long I had been standing there. I could only hope that I did not look silly and more like the statuesque figure I pictured myself to appear as in my mind.

The feel of cool breath against my face forced me out of my stupor, yet I could feel that it was not his hopes that I come back to reality, back to Red Lodge. Slowly, sleepily, I opened my blue eyes, and they met with a matching pair that gazed back with the same intensity that existed within the masterpiece that had lured me down from my warm bed. With one of those hands responsible for that very music, he tucked stray strands of hair behind my ear before placing what felt like to me a cool hand on my forehead.

"You're burning up bodyguard," he breathed, more concern audible in his voice than there should have been.

"I didn't know you could play Beethoven," I whispered weakly, and as soon as the strength in my knees vanished he grabbed hold of me before picking me up bridal style. Carefully, he carried my limp body upstairs, passing my room which created yet another accurate sense of déjà vu. I moaned weakly, not sure why I'd done so, maybe it was all that I could do. I lie on his bed for an amount of time unknown to me, now aware that this was another instance of time mysteriously passing twice in one night.

The sound of bathwater running had not made it to my ears until he once more scooped me up from the bed, and in the brightly light bathroom I squinted with grunts of protest. When had I become so weak and photosensitive?

Wesker laid me down on the floor and turned off the faucet, and I felt fearful as I felt him removing my shorts and then my shirt. I tried to cover my breasts to the best of my ability but he only scooped me up once more before shushing me, although I wasn't even sure what I was saying. Once I was submerged in the water I could feel that it was ice cold, which was most likely due to the pipes themselves being so cold during the winter freeze. I splashed around blindly in an attempt to get out, but the blond had me pinned by my shoulders.

"We need to get your temperature down," he growled, proof that right now I was giving him a run for his money, but it was just so damned cold that I didn't care if this was for my own good. However I didn't feel much for long, as I had exhausted myself in about fifteen seconds of struggling, letting myself lie in the cold water.

January 14, 2001 Monday 4:57 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: A hell of a lot better

I wasn't sure what time it was, or even if I was still alive. I had felt so terrible throughout the night that whenever I woke I forced myself back into sleep. The last thing I remembered was Wesker dunking me into a tub of cold water, but nothing after that would surface from memory.

"Wesker," I groaned sleepily, he was merely an afterthought but I felt that I should at least figure out where he was. My pillow was damp, as was my hair from my dunking earlier, but I was strangely comfortable. His care must have been amazing though because I was able to stand without feeling dizzy, so I decided that the first thing I needed to do was shower and brush my teeth. When I came back to my room there was a plate of breakfast for me on my vanity with a tall glass of orange juice.

There was a note propped up against the glass: Drink all of it. With a smirk a realized he was one of those people who believed acidic fruits were a cure-all. I downed it all though and finished everything on my plate. Since I felt better I decided to take my dirty dishes downstairs.

The sound of running water let me know that Wesker was washing his own plate and usual mug, but I didn't expect him to clean mine as well so I just waited.

"Miss Redfield," he announced once he saw me standing there in a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. Without a word he took my glass and plate to clean it himself. "You should check your class schedules. Online classes tend to have homework assignment due the first day whether they be surveys or reading assignments. They may have been up since Saturday actually."

"Thanks." Before I walked to the den I looked at the back of his head and said barely above a whisper, "And thanks for taking care of me while I was sick." Those one-day bugs were no fucking joke.

I logged in on the computer and saw that he was right: assignments had already been posted for English, Math, and Philosophy. The other professors were more than likely twiddling their thumbs but a more thorough review of the schedule showed that they were only giving an assignment a week, thank God.

I recognized those teachers though and so I understood why there was so little homework. They were the teachers with the largest classes. Of course there was no doubt that the Biology quizzes would be difficult since they were going to be based on the readings, and it would be a piece of cake if they weren't timed. So I _would_ have to read beforehand. Psychology looked easy enough though so that was a load off of my mind, and as for the First Aid class, I definitely had that in the bag.

So my Monday was spent reading and taking quizzes, and I chose to finish up all of my English for the week, and I even began deciding what to write my first paper on. It made me feel sort of good that I was able to concentrate on schoolwork without any distractions or obligations- well Wesker wasn't a bothersome obligation. It was only expected that a scientist would respect my efforts to excel academically, and he even offered help in Biology and ironically Psychology.

As long as I stayed on top of my game for three months I had nothing to worry about and my GPA would definitely be greatly improved this quarter. I had been referring to them as semesters but Wesker felt I needed the difference to be explained to and understood by me. Fine I'd say it right, but only because he was a hell of a teacher. I could tell that he felt useful when I asked him a question, even when he was in the middle of something.

I called it quits around three o'clock, deciding that I didn't need to go overboard my first day.

And then the phone rang. I was in no rush to answer seeing as I had an idea who it could have been, which was strange since I missed my big brother.

It was Wesker though who went to stare down at the caller I.D., and the tiniest smirk appeared over his thin lips. "Your brother, dear heart."

I inhaled deeply before heading over to the small table, looking to Wesker sadly. He knew that Chris was agitated with me. Wait a damned minute so were they both saying that I was annoying?

Rather than have an unnecessary, emotional female episode I just snatched up the phone and held it to my ear. "Hello?"

"For someone going on road trips you sure are home a lot stupid," was the first thing he said, and the humor he intended failed to show.

As I prepared to come back with a smart retort Wesker stepped away from me and walked off to the kitchen. "For a 'roid-head you sure are calm during confrontations."

There was an awkward silence, neither of us knowing how to followup when it was actually customary that we indulge in playful banter. "So," I began, fishing around my mind for topics. "How's Jill?"

"She's good. We had a meeting a few days ago." He was calm before but in one breath he asked, "Claireareyoustillavirgin?"

The phone dropped from my hands and I had to fumble to catch it. "Wh-wh-"

"I didn't mean for it to come out that way…" My breathing was deep, and I was sure that he could hear me. His inquiry was not only inappropriate, but also none of his damned business.

"Chris, I don't do that." I hoped it would reassure him to him it from the horse's mouth, but I doubted it would.

"I know but you're with this new guy I haven't even met and you're traveling with him and… I just want to know that you're being safe." He sounded more like the old Chris during this conversation than he had in the last one. He sounded understanding and caring, like the parent that he struggled to be and that I desperately needed to be after we lost ours.

"Chris," I groaned, smiling at the feelings that were emerging. I was sure that I was blushing now that he was once more giving me "The Talk." "You don't need to worry. If I do I'll be safe-"

"Condoms don't stop herpes or warts!" He practically shouted.

"Chris," I said sternly, frowning at the phone. Give him an inch, I thought to myself, rubbing my temples. It wasn't like I'd be having sex anyway though, not with the man posing as my boyfriend. At that thought I wondered if Jeffrey and Sara had ever spoken of marriage. Oh well.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Well I'll harass you later. Duty calls. I love you Dumbo."

"I love you too Meathead." I smiled as I waited for his line to go dead before I placed the phone on the receiver. Life wasn't easy right now, but school starting and that phone call made my day a little brighter. So I could hope for a slice of normalcy, well as normal as this game could get. The quarter would fly by and then maybe Wesker's virus would reemerge by then…

Then I wondered to myself if he would treat our agreement like it was just entertainment for him, or if he would honor his word. So this all meant one thing: I had to have faith in Albert Wesker.

A/N: Sorry for the wait again, I'll begin working on chapter 6 immediately. I didn't give Leon and Maritza a detailed "sex scene" because I wasn't sure if anyone really cared but if you want me to give them one next time they meet just let me know and I will get more into what those rabbits are doing. As you can see she's not going anywhere. Wonder why? Hmmm. Anywho despite similarities to Kick and Gianna she's not going to be another Kick or Gianna, just throwing that out there. Also if anyone was wondering, this whole story will not encompass Wesker and Claire being stuck together in Red Lodge. Eventually of course they will have to leave that area especially when Wesker gets his powers back. That town CANNOT be used as an anchor for the two. They need to have tests and trials and whatnot for either of them to say hey I really do wanna be with this person. It's just not ENOUGH of a bond to me. More will come in Red Lodge but they need worse to come and that is going to be left for the outside world to provide them with.

IMPORTANT:

Speaking of which I have an idea and I need to pick someone to run this by, I don't wish to tell everyone or do a poll on the idea. This has to be someone who doesn't mind knowing a big part of the story, it's dramatic and I felt that since it would be so dramatic that it would be good to be used. Another thing, this person CANNOT TELL OTHERS WHAT THEY KNOW and they must not be afraid to say to me whether or not they think the idea sucks. I won't accept adjustments to the idea, it'll either be a thumbs up or a no-go so if you can accept a bit of disappoint knowing that it's all just a part of the story and that the event holds a significant purpose then please contact me through PM or let me know in a review. I don't want for anyone to be upset that they weren't picked so after the people offer their help I will make a poll and others can choose who they want to be that person I consult with on this and if that doesn't work out then I'll find some way to choose like say the names until my dog barks next and whichever one I stop on they will be that person. All right people review for me if you love me!


	6. Felix Dies Valentini

A/N: "Felix Dies Valentini" is "Happy Valentine's Day." Some sources said "feliciem" but it was "felix" the first time so it shall remain since it can be said in so many ways. And in case Claire gets too whiny for y'alls tastes it's because I'm not really happy right now so kind of projecting here, but at the same time the situation makes sense because she too is suffering a particular isolation. I also let Chris and Jill have a _short_ part since there had to be some kind of sweetness happening in the week of Valentine's Day. Let me also apologize in advance for any grammatical errors I am quite tired because I sleep in the day now instead of night which is affecting me greatly as far as energy and even eating. I will come back and check and resubmit the chapter later when I have more energy if there is anything.

CLAIREXOC WARNING. But it has to happen for the next chapter to play out the way it does.

Spark Of Insanity: I like Albaire lol and thanks for taking the time to R&R :)

NinMetro: Thank you so much and thanks for offering your help :)

Naoko Suki: You were a big help.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, nor do I own any song mentioned. The fic and OCs belong to me though.

Optio

Chapter 6: Felix Dies Valentini

February 8, 2001 Thursday 5:58 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Proud

I stretched happily before getting up from the chair in front of the computer desk, glad that all important assignments for next week were taken care of already. With midterms around the corner I had no intention of struggling for study time. Time was beginning to fly, and quite pleasantly might I add because once schoolwork was thrown into the mix I found myself wondering where the hell the time went. Since he had been such a help and that assistance got me a B in Philosophy I decided I'd make a nice big dinner for Wesker, and yes I knew it was weird that I felt I owed him after all he had done but I felt like I owed him for what he had _not_ done.

So I decided to bake that whole chicken I bought, throw a bunch nice spices and whatnot on it, make mashed potatoes, peas, rice with gravy, biscuits, and even a nice big German chocolate cake for him. I was so proud of myself even though it was almost nine by the time I finished, and I was sure that the four sides plus dessert would be a dead giveaway that I was trying to please him. When he finished showering I was sure the smell of dinner was what brought him downstairs, and he had no problem showing up in pants that were clearly for bed, and a black tee.

"Are you in a good mood?" he asked as I smiled at him from the other side of the table.

"It's to thank you for your help," I offered, passing him the basket of biscuits.

I could tell he wanted to smile at me, however, he didn't, and he just ate and ate. For some reason this made me feel good, and I wanted to enjoy this silence between us since the more he stuffed his face the more it meant he was enjoying it.

However, I was beginning to notice more things about him, like he really didn't have any smile lines and usually those popped up at around maybe thirty, so did he not smile much coming up in life or did he just have great genes? Lately he hadn't bothered to make sure that every strand of hair was perfectly slicked back, and a few times last month he had lost his shades, or at least that's why I thought he wasn't wearing them. Even stranger he would sit in a room near the one I inhabited, almost like he was trying to be in my company but he just didn't want to flat out say it.

It was time to eat some cake, and before he took his first bite he looked to me, the dim, dining room light not doing those crystal clear orbs of blue any justice.

"Frank and Mary invited us to a get together at the town hall," he announced, promptly taking a bite of the slice of cake on his dessert saucer.

I wanted to drop my fork and let it noisily hit the saucer to display my annoyance, but I only huffed because damn I wanted some of that cake now. So I stuffed a forkful into my mouth before replying. "They always seem to tell _you_ these things and never me."

"I believe they hoped you wouldn't come seeing as it's more for the teenagers of the town."

"By teenagers they mean one in particular," I angrily muttered, not looking away from my dish. Sorry but goddamn this was good and I hadn't had chocolate in a while.

With a chuckle he said, "They wish for me to chaperone her." I heard his fork clatter against his plate, causing my head to snap up. Pinching the bridge of his nose he stared down at the table, laughing to himself, and yes it was a frightening sight.

"'You okay?" I didn't know whether or not I should have laughed as well, all I knew was this was extremely uncharacteristic of Wesker.

"They don't even try to hide it," he said mid-laugh. Uneasily, I joined in, trying my hardest to pretend that I was with him all the way in this little joke.

"We're ending it." His laughter stopped abruptly, leaving me sounding like a maniac. "I'm proposing to you then in front of them all."

My mouth opened, trying to speak, and it was failing miserably until I gave a little cough to kick start it. "Isn't a Valentine's Day proposal cheesy?"

"Dear heart I am more concerned with efficiency than novelty."

A part of me felt hurt that this was just business and it wasn't that I wanted him to really look me in the eye with sincerity and say that such things, but I was beginning to miss the male contact that I once had sufficient access to. I was no exotic goddess with double d's, dark hair, and extra-pouty lips but I knew that there was something that kept the male species flocking my way. Maybe it was the tinge of red in my hair since redheads were supposedly the most desired, maybe it was my small frame, hell it could have been my love for bikes and alcohol. All I knew for sure was that Wesker should have posed as my uncle at least so I could run about town flirting in bars with men around my age. Seeing him every day wasn't as great a thing as Mary pushed Stephanie to believe.

Hell, maybe we should have agreed to get into the real shit couples go through such as infidelity so Stephy could see exactly what her tall blond prince was like.

From that night on all I could think was: on Valentine's Day I'll be betrothed. Ugh.

February 14, 2001 Wednesday 8:03 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Disappointed

I had become detached since Wesker had warned me of the proposal. I spoke with him, ate with him, let him continue to feel useful while I pretended that I still didn't understand the words in my Biology book, but I couldn't really care anymore. I had honestly reached my limit of what I was able to take, and I was done. My plan was to "take it to the head" tonight, be drunk and belligerent, and whatever slipped about my true feelings towards Wesker was not a huge concern of mine.

And the whole fucking town could talk until they were blue in the face about Sara Ivanov the drunken, Russian adulterer that was shacking up with a man almost half her age. However, my plan was shot to hell when Wesker informed me that I would be doing the driving tonight, and I almost threw the biggest bitch fit ever. Only stared at him though, damning his black turtleneck sweater, damning those fucking black pants, and definitely damning those black shoes that would announce his arrival. In my mirror I saw myself as nearly broken, staring blankly at myself.

In accordance with traditional Valentine's Day colors I wore a semi formal red and white dress with red stilettos, and not even my favorite color could cheer me up. With a heavy sigh I adjusted my visible cleavage, hoping that maybe someone would throw me a scrap of attention, and then I suddenly felt as low as Stephanie.

The gathering was at some center whose name I didn't care to even look up at, and a few times Wesker attempted to start a conversation with me, but I didn't particularly feel like engaging. Ah, that damned word…

Once inside we were greeted by familiar faces, however, the most familiar belonged to the Luomas who were sitting at a table in the back of the room. The place was decorated with red, white and pink and the balloons that were floating above were those exact same colors with their streamers dangling pretty close our heads. Many plastic bags containing party favors were sitting on the table to the right of the entrance, and I could see that cheap candy was what had occupied them. The alcohol was on a table draped in pink to the far left of the room and a sign stated, "Adult Beverages."

"Oh yeah, horny teens will let that deter 'em," I mumbled to myself, noticing that Wesker was heading for the "grown-up" table. My eyes became slits, I probably looked a little cartoonish even, but this fucker had the temerity to make me drive all so he could be the one to get plastered? Ho, ho, ho I was getting so heated that I noticed the red blotches on my chest appearing that usually gave away my mood. This anger that I felt for him couldn't be described, and I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. There was a migraine forming behind my eyes, but I had to ignore it all for the sake of these people's happiness.

"You two hadn't had plans already did you?" Mary dabbed around her mouth for any crumbs that may have been left from the finger sandwich she slowly nibbled away at.

Flatly, without an equally false smile I said, "No." For a moment her eyes widened as if she were taken aback by my bluntness and refusal to chit-chat as if we were friends. She may have been able to keep up her Judas role but I never was one that was able to hold back my true feelings for long. The amount of time that I had put up with her was enough for me.

Ever the professional, she ignored my attitude and asked, "Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass of wine?"

I wanted to grin to myself so badly once I realized how I could manipulate Wesker's plan and keep us in the town's mouth. If I was going to be Sara Ivanov I might as well paint the fictional character up brilliantly right; because if she actually ever did exist and she was one of the most unfortunate people out there then the least I could do was live a little for her namesake. Also, I had finally decided that I needed to liven up a little about the situation: I was under a false identity which meant that I could do whatever I wanted to do and nothing would hurt my reputation at all.

"I'm trying to stay away from alcohol," I answered, a sweet smile on my face.

A woman named Gwen who had been joking about me being pregnant seemed to appear out of thin air at that exact moment. "So it's true?" The excitement in her voice combined with the disbelief on Mary's face was priceless, and I wished that Wesker had supplied me with some sort of secret spy cam so I could have just rewound that part of the conversation time and time again.

With a tone of mock-guilt I said, "So Gwen how is your store coming? I was thinking when it got warmer I could plant red hibiscus?" She smiled at how I avoided her question, giving me a wink before she pulled her husband up from the table to drag him onto the dance floor.

It seemed many couples were making their way to dance, and I couldn't help but grin as Stephanie grimaced at her father's request that her mother join him. I recognized the song as "All My Life," and I rolled my eyes at the cheesy pick, although it was a good song I just felt that this was so forced. I was about to shut myself off and get lost in random thoughts until I felt someone grab my hand.

It was no surprise that it was Wesker, however, what was a surprise was how he led to me dance with him and I wondered if he was drunk. I could tell that he'd been partaking in the vodka, jello shots, but I only saw him take two so maybe he was on his way.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and I uncomfortably wrapped mine around his neck. His warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "And just what do you think you're doing?" So he heard me.

Pulling back so I could look into his eyes I gave a mocking smile and said excitedly, "I'm just having a little fun Jeff!"

Closing his eyes he scoffed to himself, his grip tightening on me, and it caused the strangest sensation within me. Being this close to him was never easy, it was awkward yet strangely pleasant, but it was never a comfortable pleasantness seeing as his true intent behind doing so was hidden. "Fun?" I could definitely smell the vodka on his breath, although it wasn't too strong, and since I couldn't have any though I desperately wanted some I didn't mind it. I know I'm a future alcoholic.

It seemed we both decided to take advantage of our situation at the same time. Usually it was him initiating the acted out affection, however, tonight we both consciously made the decision to bring our lips together and since it had been done before I was not shy about it. My isolation from affectionate males had taken its toll on me at this point, and right now all I wanted was for someone to at least _pretend_ they wanted me.

I was lost in a sea of confusion and lust, not caring whose eyes were on us as he placed his hand on the nape of my neck to deepen the kiss. We were holding onto each other tightly, our bodies pressed together so that I had to fight the urge to battle him for dominance. Because we were so close I could feel him growing in his pants, giving me a bit of satisfaction that I had some influence over that and I wasn't even doing much. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I expected the kiss to become passionate but it wasn't. It was painfully slow.

Then, the music stopped and as though he had been brought back from hypnosis, he broke the kiss. Neither of us looked to the audience we indubitably had, rather, we stared at each other for a few seconds, and without warning he took the moment of silence to take one of my hands and get down on bended knee. Oh how this was a great moment for an age joke, but this had to be believable.

Sincerely, he stared into my eyes, and the bastard deserved an Oscar for this performance. "Sara Ivanov," he began, pulling a heart-shaped, black velvet ring box from his pocket. He flicked it open giving me the view of my life: it was an eighteen karat gold band with three diamonds set into it, the largest one in the middle. I estimated two carat, and just at the sight I wanted to jump up and down like a kid at the fair. It was so _sparkly_.

Unknowingly my jaw dropped, and that was something that I quickly corrected as I heard him finish up with, "Will you marry me?"

Now in real life the answer would have been a definite hell no, however, this was not real, so I nodded with that same dumbstruck look on my face I answered hoarsely with, "Yes." I heard gasps as he removed the ring from its box and he placed it on my ring finger. With wide eyes I stared down at it, barely hearing the cheers of the residents of Red Lodge, and the grin that spread across my face was the result of what would come next: rumors and speculation.

Nearly everyone congratulated me, and about seventy-eight percent of those very same people went off to spread their little theories about why "Sara and Jeffrey were getting married."

My favorites were: "She is pregnant," "he is afraid his age will cost him her," "she's a known whore," and then my personal favorite was "he desperately wants children before he gets too old to handle it."

However, the worst rumor had to do with "Jeffrey's" actions tonight involving the adult table. Without any thought of the repercussions that could be manifested through something that was nothing more than a dimwitted theory, an overweight blonde who I recognized from the party at "our" house said, "You can tell he beats the poor thing look at them. He drinks like a fish and so does she. I'd be damned if a man win me over with a ten thousand dollar ring after whoopin' ma ass."

Before I knew what I was doing I turned around and tossed my punch in her direction, of course the red beverage wouldn't stain her multicolored shirt too badly, but I knew that it was an action of the utmost disrespect other than spitting. As a further insult, once the building became quiet and everyone began understanding what happened I spat, "And I'd be damned if someone would buy you a ring from a _vendor_ you cow."

A pair of cool hands was on my shoulders, and a voice said, "Sara, it's all right." At the sound of Frank's voice I turned away from the woman's shocked face and stared up into his cold eyes. "I will handle it," he offered, and for some reason I trusted him. Something about Mr. Luoma was genuine, the complete opposite of his wife, who was seated next to a fidgeting Stephanie. I threw her a glance that communicated, "Yeah I do that too."

Wesker made his way over to Frank and me, throwing glances at "the cow."

"Thanks Frank," I whispered, and he released me from his hold. "Jeffrey, let's go home." Without a goodbye to anyone I took Wesker's hand and led him out to the Trailblazer, and thankfully the ride home was a silent one.

February 14, 2001 Wednesday 9:55 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Disappointed

My actions tonight had more than likely sealed Sara's fate in Red Lodge, but in the end I had done what needed to be done and that was defend Jeffrey's honor as a credible man in this town. We had a while to go here and the last thing we needed was for the law enforcement here to suspect him of being a wife-beater. In the den I found Wesker deleting messages off of the phone, apparently still drunk seeing as he looked a bit confused.

The ring shone brightly on my finger, reminding me of tonight all over again. Should I have taken it off? I decided against it because I feared that I would end up forgetting to put it back on next time I went out in public.

"Are you all right?" I asked nervously.

Plainly he replied with, "Fine."

With a forced laugh I said, "Good because this fucking zipper is stuck." Without asking I neared him and turned my back on the blonde, waiting quite a while before he actually made any move to assist me. When he did he jerked his hand down, and I heard the dress tear angrily. "Shit," I hissed, trying to pull away, but his hand kept pulling down and I spun around before my naked torso was revealed. "What the fuck Wesker?"

The blond brushed it off, swatting the air as he said, "I'll buy you another one."

Holding my dress up over something he had already seen may have appeared pointless, but it wasn't like I had ever voluntarily paraded around his house in boy shorts and a Victoria's Secret pushup. "Are you _drunk_?" By his answer I would have a clear definition of "drunken Wesker."

"All Redfields must have been Neanderthals. Idiotic questions," he mumbled

My brow rose as my eyes widened at his statement, and though I understood that he hated my brother for some unknown reason he didn't have to bring any more of our family into this. "Yeah and your tables are so bare because your family won "Family of the Fucking Year!"

His response was the swipe at the telephone and it clattered noisily to the floor, just at my feet. "Of course you would be too foolish to understand."

"Oh yeah poor Wesker! He's been human for like three months and his life has become so fucking hard! I'm a human all day every day so suck it up the titty milk still on your lips and stop being such a _pussy_!" He picked up the purplish, marble egg that sat on the table where the telephone once rested and threw it right at me. I ducked to avoid what could have been a catastrophic collision. Mouth literally agape, I pressed the material of my dress farther into my skin.

His finger was targeted on me as he spat, "Do not ever dare to compare twenty-one years of your life spent as human to mine when I have done so almost twice as long. In the 60s _I _was human, in the 70s _I _was humans, the 80s, when you were a simple child _I_ was human."

Ignoring his facts I clenched my teeth and said fuck modesty as I decided to let my dress do as it pleased. "You wanna throw shit? Fine!" The candy bowl on the table next to me was the first thing I saw, and though I couldn't aim it at the drunk's head I threw it at the front door. "How's _this_ for throwing shit? You can buy more!" I added quickly, hating him more than ever.

Him. His power. His money.

The fake plant that set behind the late candy bowl was next. "How's _this_?" Soon, we were both throwing whatever we could pick up: remotes, candy dishes, decorative ashtrays, and even the poor coat rack.

"So _fuck_ you and _all_ of your fancy shit!" I caught site of a pair of his sunglasses sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch, so I stomped over and back after retrieving them. I threw them down and I noticed how taut he held his jaw, "And. Fuck. These. Shades." Angrily I stomped my foot on them, hearing them break under my stilettos.

Sobriety was fighting to win out over his drunkenness, something I could tell from the look in his eyes, and it was almost like he had lost control and given in to some fit of rage. After he threw that egg at me though I was unable to stay here any longer, so I finally gave into my urge to let this little agreement fall through. I changed into the outfit that I came in, gathered the suitcase and its original contents, and I returned to the den for some reason. It looked like a tornado had torn through the den, wood, glass, and other debris littered the floor from the fight earlier but when it was happening I didn't realize how bad things were. Potpourri and decorative marbles were scattered across the floor, providing quite a hazard for the home's inebriated owner.

He was not my problem anymore though.

Really, it didn't matter if he witnessed me leave or not, but it did bother me that his car was gone when I went out to the Trailblazer. To keep the cold at bay I had no choice but to start the engine though, all the while home I was thinking, "What if he gets pulled over or wrecks?" As I merged onto the interstate though I had to concentrate on the road, checking every exit to ensure I wouldn't end up somewhere like Tuscan and not realize it.

By 7:15 A.M. I was home, and as soon as I entered my freezing, cold apartment I turned up the thermostat and went off to my bed, noticing the difference right away.

Home.

February 15, 2001 Thursday 4:55 AM

Subject: Redfield, Chris

Location: Albany, New York

Status: Fine

Jill was about the only person that could keep me awake no matter how tired I was or where I had to be the next day. Sex was one of the reasons but right now we were just talking, something I actually enjoyed with her. There was no subject that she couldn't make entertaining, well save for a few.

"I dunno," she began, "that Sergei guy creeped me out. I don't like him."

With a scoff I said, "Aw come on I think he's kinda cool."

"The only reason you like him is because he wants to drink Wesker's blood as vodka."

Despite that being the truth I rolled onto her, making her laugh, taking advantage of the moment to place a kiss on her neck. "You Miss Valentine are quite the racist."

She rolled her blue eyes. "Hmm, Russian isn't a race. I'm starting to think you really are dumb."

"You're not still fuckin' with me cause of a big brain." My eyebrows wiggled as I gave her a devilish grin. She always looked so beautiful in bed, disheveled and exhausted at my hand, but I didn't care about dominating her, just being with her was enough for me. The two most important women in my life were Jill and Claire, both who were very emotional beings, but they kept me on my toes I suppose.

Also, I think practically raising Claire made me into an empathetic man prematurely in life, and because it had to be practiced with my little sister it was an automatic response to Jill's distress. The mansion incident was no different either; our separation nearly killed me as I grappled with the possibility that she was dead. This was something that I never shared with her for fear that she'd believe that I would give up on her at the first sign of trouble, but I wouldn't.

"I love you."

My eyes shot open at those three words, "Jill-"

"I know you love me too," she said quickly, cutting me off before she got the speech again. "Chris, I don't care if you come back with one leg or not at all, I'll still love you. What does a title do to change it so much?"

She had pretty much set herself up for that one, answering her own question. "Exactly." Blue eyes stared up at me sadly, and I knew that she felt rejected.

"Are you fucking someone else?" she demanded, a scowl on her face.

"Jill no. I only make love with you!" I cried, pinning her beneath me with her arms over her head. "Just you Valentine. I was here with you on the fourteenth. I stayed all night. Just like I'll do tonight." Her defensive glare was fading now as she realized that her accusation had been completely unfounded and that I was right. It was a natural response when someone did not want to officially date you but I felt like Jill should have known better by now that just about every waking moment was spent with her."Now a kiss before bedtime."

With a softened attitude she closed her eyes and let me bring my lips down to hers. "And I love you, and only you." My reminder was loud and clear, and I rolled off of her only to wrap my arms around her since she always felt better when I cuddled with her. Maybe someday when all of this was over we could be together, but until then she would just have to accept an illegitimate love. "Happy Valentine's Day Valentine," I whispered, shortly after falling asleep only to dream of how our fourteenth was spent.

February 15, 2001 Thursday 3:08 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Confused

I thought that this was what I wanted, although there were various factors I had not taken into account: food, money, and my schoolwork. Leaving on a whim was never the smart thing to do; however, it was the Claire Redfield thing to do. Only a little of the cash I had in "Sara's" wallet went to food since initially I had no intention of using anymore of Wesker's money. If he wanted the Trailblazer he could take it, and if he wanted the card shredded then I would do just that for him, and as I realized more and more how this seemed like a traditional breakup I began laughing aloud to myself.

"I left Albert Wesker," I said to myself, cackling after the odd sentence left my lips. The familiar sound of Mr. Sidorov's broom disturbed my lunatic moment, and in response I stomped my bare foot down hard on the floor. Fucker.

"Oh fuck it," I groaned to myself, standing up and walking to the kitchen to fix myself a Whiskey Sour. To me it was never too early to get drunk, and it didn't matter at this point anyway if I fell asleep since no one was depending on me to cook dinner or ask for help in Biology or Philosophy. "Stupid scientist."

A loud knock interrupted my sulking, thank God, because I had no real reason to be upset. I had been lying to my brother and living the high life with his sworn enemy! I even willingly kissed him a few times so maybe home was where I needed to be, at least here I could think out loud, "Claire, what the fuck were you thinking?"

The thought of Wesker made me stop halfway to the door. What if he had come for me? That inexplicably made my heart warm, and for that I decided that whoever it was just needed to go away, especially if it was him.

More banging. "Claire! It's Byron!"

With a heavy sigh I trudged the last few steps to let him in, not even bothering to greet him. "Claire," he breathed, taking in the sight of me. "Where the hell have you been?"

Going back to my couch I said, "Places."

"Uh, I was kinda worried," he declared, holding his hands out for an explanation, but I only rolled my eyes at him. Byron was an okay person, just very young and immature as all twenty-one-year-old boys were, and I couldn't fault him for acting his age. His dark-brown hair was secured in subtle spikes on the top of his head, he had chocolate brown eyes that made his promises all the more believable, and he always dressed nicely despite being the biggest party-boy I'd ever known. Today he wore a navy button-down with dark jeans, and I wondered exactly how much mommy and daddy had paid for that shirt.

Taking a sip of my drink I said, "Well, I'm fine."

"Kinda early to be drinking Redfield." Byron saying my name reminded me of Wesker and his preference to refer to others by their surnames as if it were mockingly polite, and that was most likely why he did it. Why was everything going back to _him_?

To keep the conversation moving along so my mind would not continue to settle on the blond I said, "Never."

With a grin he said, "Well, since you got the whisky out you mind pouring me a glass?"

"Aren't you driving?" Really, I just wanted him to go away and let me drink in peace. I no longer cared if I a certain shaded figure was the subject of my thoughts.

"I'll be here for a bit."

Deciding not to argue I pointed to the kitchen, "Grab a glass." Byron knew his way around my kitchen pretty well, having come over on various occasions with the munchies to raid my fridge and leave it bare with not even light mayo left spared.

"So," he began, sitting next to me and setting his glass with ice cubes on the table in front of us, "what has you drinking so early?" He poured as much as he could, and I knew he was going to get hammered.

How strange that I turned to hard liquor when it was the very reason that I fled Wesker's residence in Red Lodge. "No reason," I lied, cradling my head in my hand.

He chugged his whiskey down, and filled his glass once more. "Oh I know what that means," he claimed with a sneer.

Refreshing my own glass I asked, "_What_?"

With a little laugh Byron said, "A woman says nothing's wrong when it's obvious that's a lie? Means she's pissed at a man."

Though he was correct, I glared at him angrily before I threw back my glass. "Oh please."

"True shit," he drawled, rolling his eyes at me. "I'm guessing he gave you the ring then showed his true colors."

"How did you…" I forgot that I still wore the ten thousand dollar ring on my left ring finger, and though I should have left it at the house back in Red Lodge I didn't. Also, I hadn't entirely forgotten about it until I woke up this morning after attempting to ignore it the whole drive back.

Whistling dramatically he said, "That's a lotta rock."

Guiltily I stared down at it and sighed, knowing that this thing should have been off of my finger a long time ago.

"You don't need to be tied down." Byron finished off another glass and looked me in the eyes. "You're too fuckin' hot to be throwing your freedom down the drain."

Scowling was my chosen response, but for some reason instead I ended up giving him a half smile. "Shut up," I warned, my glass inches from my lips.

Placing his own down, he put an arm around the back of the couch, turning his body towards me. "It's true. I mean shit Redfield do you look in the mirror at all?" After downing my drink he took my glass from me and set it on the table. "Most of these college girls are just sloppy but you, you can drink, you can ride bikes, and through all of that shit at the end of the day you're still tight as fuck."

"_Oh. My. God_." I covered my face with my hands with a smile of disbelief on my face.

"And you think I'm just trying to fuck but I'm tellin' ya the truth here. You're running after some guy that scared you all the way back to Denver when you could be living your life and partying that sexy little ass off while you got time." The alcohol was starting to affect both of us, and I could tell because my lips were becoming numb. I was sure that Byron thought this way sober but it stayed as just that: thoughts.

Finally looking at him I said, "Byron stop."

Leaning in closely to me, he gave a sigh. "Look, I'm not sayin' open up wide for me, I mean if you're concerned about your promise to big brother there are other forms of sex." For a minute I actually considered the possible forms. "You've been drinking, I've been drinking, and there's no one here that can tell us not to be young. I don't like seein' you down like this so why don't you do something a little extreme to take you mind off of it?" He saw that I was hesitant so he added, "No one has to know."

Unable to look up I asked, "Do you have any…" It kind of embarrassed me to say condoms out loud for some reason. Maybe because this wasn't something that I would normally do, and despite the fact that I wasn't giving him my virginity this still frightened me.

Smirking he said, "In my car, I'll be right back."

I didn't know what I was supposed to do while I waited. Should I have gone to my room and gotten naked, or should l come up with some cheesy way to seduce him? Still, Wesker was on my mind and the ways he would have possibly reacted to my absence. If he came home last night to see that I wasn't there and neither was the car he would have assumed that I went out, but if he woke up and I was still nowhere to be seen then would he have worried or assumed that I came back to Denver? I almost got lost in thought until I heard Byron return, a box in his hands, and with a heavy sigh I led him to my bedroom, unhappy with my decision but at the same time I knew the brunet was right.

I had to do something extreme.

There was no attempt by Byron to romance me: he removed his pants and boxers, revealing that just the thought of this had him erect, and I couldn't feel sicker. Something in my head told me to stop, but my body continued and I knew then that I had had too much to drink. I removed my bottoms to match him but then he only took off my shirt and bra for me without my consent. I was too faded to fight this.

I got on all fours on my bed, falling onto my head when my arms failed me. Byron only chuckled at me before he got behind me, and then the smell of the rubber invaded my nose. One of his hands was on my back to steady me, and he lingered for a moment.

"Keep quiet for me," he warned, and right after a sharp pain struck me so that I understood why he had said such a thing to me. I was hitting the headboard with my palm so that it began stinging, but he continued his attempt. He stopped for a moment, and then he tried once more without considering how it would feel to me. This wasn't right, I was drunk so I shouldn't have been able to feel a thing, yet I could feel this without a doubt. As he continued to try to force it in I let out a shout to let him know that it wasn't going to happen, and that this was definitely uncomfortable to me.

"Shh," he hissed.

"What was that?" It sounded like my door had opened, but Byron only shushed me once more so he could continue uninterrupted.

Then I could no longer feel him. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed, and I turned around quickly to see him on the floor, Wesker standing over him with his hands balled into fists. His jaw was clenched so that I could make out the bone from beneath his skin, the veins in his arms and head were so visible that it looked like they were about to burst, and his head snapped in my direction.

"Get dressed," he snarled. Quickly, just to hide my body I clumsily dressed, Byron doing the same except he was doing it for another reason: to prepare for a fight. "Get out," the blond spat, but Byron being as hard-headed as he was only crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who the fuck are you gramps?" he demanded, looking Wesker up and down, sizing him up, but he was too dumb to know not to judge Wesker by his age.

It only took one show of defiance before Wesker grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and roughly threw him into the wall. "Get out!" he roared, sending a chill down my spine as I watched my guest stumble out of my room, slamming the door to my apartment behind him.

Behind those shades I knew that there was disappointment, and another emotion that I was unable to assess or too much of a coward to dare claim that I saw it. Feeling as frail as I was at the moment, I played with my hands, afraid to look at him.

Of course I was spared the task of speaking first as Wesker decided that he would begin. "What are you doing?"

My inability to answer was contributed to my shame and fear, yet Wesker wanted answers not frightened glances and I could tell that his temper was flaring beyond his control. "Do you have any idea what I went through to find you?" His voice was harsh in the small space, too loud for my own ears. "I searched Red Lodge top to bottom for you until I was informed that you were seen on the interstate." His voice was calmer now, though his demeanor remained wrathful.

"Just because we have not been attacked, it does not mean that no one knows you are helping me. I risked my own life coming back here to make sure that you were alive, and the point of employing you was to ensure that I would be safe. The first thing you is run off-"

Something in me grew enraged and I yelled, "I wouldn't have run off had you not thrown a two pound, marble egg at my head! I haven't done anything to you and you get back to the house and treat me like shit when I put my issues aside to help you for a promise you probably won't keep!"

Ignoring my rant he continued as if he had never been interrupted. "You come back here, soak your problems in alcohol, and then you attempt to have sex with the first body that shows up." Shaking his head he grimaced at my poor choices, making a few tears spring to my eyes. "Get your things, let's go."

He swept from my room, his aura of rage lingering, and my feelings hurt more than ever. It was hard for me to understand exactly why, though it possibly had to do with the fact that he made me feel like a drunken whore. Something in his voice told me that there was more to it than that though, and that he was reacting so strongly because of something he was not telling me. And then I wondered absently where Mr. Sidorov was during all of this? Once more I brought my red suitcase with me and made my way downstairs with Wesker who refused to speak a word to me.

The drive back to Red Lodge was quiet despite my efforts to begin a conversation with Wesker. He frowned the whole nine hours which I didn't think was possible for anyone, yet he managed somehow. I just had no idea what to expect when we got back "home," and as I stared down at the gold ring I felt that maybe I had an idea of what exactly was happening.

A/N: Short for a reason. The next one should be I wanna say 30 pages. Rather than drag out a certain part of the story I will just put them together and Claire has a birthday coming in March so yay! Now please review :)


	7. Desiderium

A/N: All right this is the chapter that I previewed and for those of you that have been craving for "Albaire,"–one of the many suggestions by Spark Of Insanity-here you are. "Desiderium" means "desire." Expect a… steamy chapter, and I changed a part of ONE sentence because of the last chapter. There will be quite a bit Albaire here and like I said before the pace has to be picked up. Intensity has been building with these two and Wesker has already demonstrated interest (standing outside her door) and of course this is Claire's POV so exactly what Wesker was feeling is not entirely known so it's not too unexpected. Do not mistake the change of their relationship to equal that they love each other. Just like a week a month is not enough time. I will also say that since one person could respond about that thing I planned for the future I have consulted with them and it is decided (Fany05 I attempted to contact you but could not sadly). Also expect a very short part with Leon and Maritza. There's a clue so it was necessary that they at least have a page.

Naoko Suki: You are very welcome and thank you.

Olivia-B52007: I'm glad I brightened your day and thank you that is so sweet :D. I just thought what would be the womanly thing to do? Break something precious lol.

Biohazard Queen: I try to make them go through issues that couples have when they're not even a couple: He drinks, they argue, they throw stuff, and she runs home. I'm glad they made you laugh though :)

Spark Of Insanity: There is A LOT of Albaire here.

Fany05: I'm glad you decided to review and yeah the whole she-falls-in-love-because-she-has-no-choice bit was old. To me if I decided to write one involving SS she would just come back to her senses and kill him in the end because it would just seem right. If someone is willing to go that extra mile and make it into an extremely disturbing story then I think it can be enjoyable though. It would have to be _creepy_. And I tried to PM you but it was disabled :(

NinMetro: Angry Wesker is funny to me. Although I find many unfunny things funny…

PurgatoryNymph: Thank you for your review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its character nor do I own Mortal Kombat.

Optio

Chapter 7: Desiderium

February 16, 2001 Friday 1:27 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Embarrassed, nervous, shit you name it

I could tell that he was disappointed in me, although I could not place exactly why. I mean, I came back with him after being interrupted from making a huge mistake with Byron, one that would leave me needing an icepack for my ass. He'd only managed to get it in a bit, and when the pain struck I began having my reservations, but when Wesker came into my room and threw Byron off of me we had no choice but to stop.

"I guess you're pretty upset with me." I sat with my legs over the side of my bed, staring down at my jeaned thighs like a scolded child. The enigmatic figure that towered over me said nothing, his shadow stretching long and far over my wooden floor, compliments of the dim lamp whose shade was red. It looked like sunset was lighting my room, yet sunset never felt so unnerving. Then again Albert Wesker could easily downplay any sight of beauty with his presence alone.

It was an assumption of mine that he refused to speak because he had no idea how to respond to my question without admitting that he felt a jealousy that ate away at his very core when he thought of another man having me. The look in his eyes when he commanded Byron out of my home had left me speechless and afraid that he would resort to harming me.

And human or not, he would have because his glare sent shivers into my very soul, breaking my concentration and preventing my fiery attitude from surfacing.

Finally, I looked up at him, taking in his outfit, only now realizing that it resembled the combat uniform he wore on Rockfort. So on top of being pissed he had considered it very viable that he could have been attacked when he came after me.

His arms folded, he stared right through me it seemed, and though his eyes were their original icy blue they had the wrath of his red and orange pair. I saw the tiniest bit of stubble attempting to protrude from his usually smooth cheeks, and the veins in his arms stood out as his fury continued to pulse throughout his body. His jaw was clenched, and combined with his completely straight back he looked quite uncomfortable.

"I didn't have sex with him," I said clearly, my voice was unwavering as I succeeded in projecting one that sounded nothing but true. I licked my dry lips as I prepared to bluntly tell him what _did_ happen. "We tried anal sex, but it didn't work out. I would never give Byron my virginity," I added, my eyes falling back to my thighs. "Sorry for worrying you, I just needed my space. From all the driving you must be exhausted."

Something told me to stop babbling so I did, and then I looked up once I heard the sound of his boots against the hardwood.

Without a word, he leaned down to me and captured my lips with his own, sending my mind into a swirl as I felt my brain turn into mush. In an effort to enjoy his slight dishevelment while I could I reached up with my right hand to cup his cheek while I returned his kiss. It was not too fast, nor was it painfully, emotionally slow, but it was a little in between. And though I didn't even have an emotional attachment to this man I had been experiencing the undeniable desire of a woman that needed to be taken.

He was a man of perfect health, aged enough to know what to do, and experienced enough to make my first time memorable (something that wasn't entirely good, but better than it being with a boy scout who could barely get it in). Still, it wasn't completely clear whether or not he was actually going to fuck me, so I would have to see how far either of us was willing to take this.

I swear I didn't spread my legs, it was something that just happened in response to our kiss, and though he noticed my movement he did not yet take that as an invitation. His back must have gotten tired though, because he placed his hands on either side of me to hold himself up on my bed, and continued to kiss me for at least twenty more seconds. Hell yeah I counted.

An accidental gasp left in the wake of his withdrawal, something I felt silly about once I saw that it was so he could remove his shades. I watched as he took off his gloves, letting them fall to the ground carelessly, and once he began undoing his shirt I feigned a lack of enthusiasm when I stood to begin to remove my own clothes. It was taking me a while longer though since I became entranced at the sight of his body which was being revealed little by little to me.

The blonde's shirt fell to the floor, leaving me with the sight of a an eight-pack that could melt the south pole, and when he turned to close the door presumably out of habit, I was able to admire his back that Atlas would have killed for. I was only to the last button of my blouse when he turned back towards me, and because I was taking so long I felt it was necessary that I quickly shrug off my top. My pushup bra was black with white lace over the top, and just like a man Wesker let his eyes take in the sight of my breasts for a moment before he removed his boots and socks. Something in me was awakening.

That feeling that I was sexy was returning in a haze, and my pink lips parted slightly, my eyes now half lidded.

Wesker seemed to feel whatever waves of hormones I was secreting because his movements to unbutton his pants were slow, and now I was the one ahead. Left in nothing but my bra and matching panties, I watched him remove his pants, and I saw the bulge in his boxers that was meant for me. Hesitantly, I unhooked my bra and let it fall away from my perky breasts, and it left us in one item each. It was no contest, something Wesker seemed to know because he was the one to remove his last article of clothing.

Since he showed his own, I decided to present him with mine, relieved that I had shaved although I doubt it would have mattered to him. Unsure of how this went I got into the bed, making sure to get beneath the sheets, but Wesker pulled them back

Rather than attempt to get right into it as Byron had, Wesker began kissing me again as he held himself up on his elbow. I felt his length against my thigh, it was warm against my skin, and though I'd never had sex my body was telling me that it was good so hop to it. From the sheer size of it though, I knew this would not be easy, so I tried to keep my eyes averted to avoid attempting to measure it.

He stopped to whisper to me, "I will try to make this as painless as possible so I'll need you to relax. You have to be ready." I knew what he meant, and it was a no-brainer that a nervous girl would not be a wet one. I lightly placed my hands on his cheeks, forcing him to stare back down at me. Never had I been like this, practically dripping, and my body once more began displaying independence when my hips slightly grinded upward.

He made a sound that was meant to tell me that I needed to calm down, and though I knew he was right I couldn't help myself.

I wasn't sure how much longer he stayed inside of me or how much longer we spent kissing each other randomly on each other's cheeks, foreheads, lips, necks, and collarbones. All I knew was I hadn't been able to fall asleep so easily in all my life while in the middle of something.

My slumber was dreamless, just dark all around, and when I finally woke myself up I found that the man who I had given myself to was right next to me. The warmth of his body was amazing, and I smiled a little when I saw that his arm was around me.

A glance out of my window told me that it was probably five in the morning, giving us plenty of time to sleep even more. And though I did not love this man, and I didn't like him either, I was willing to acknowledge something: he had made me feel better than I had ever felt before.

February 16, 2001 Friday 12:45 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Peaceful

I woke up later that morning, to find that I was alone, and once I saw that the clock next to my bed read noon I understood why. Was it that good? Yes.

A part of me felt like walking around in an oversized tee but I felt that that would have been too bold of me; after all we'd had sex one time, we weren't together. So I threw on some knit bottoms and headed downstairs. I smelled French toast wafting from the dining room so I entered casually, not even bothering to ask if I could join him. We were past that.

Drinking his coffee black as usual with no sugar whatsoever (I shuddered whenever I remembered that he preferred it that way), he sat reading the paper, his plate bare save for a few crumbs. There was already a plate and eating utensils set out for me, so I helped myself to the platter of food before me: hash browns, French toast, what I recognized as grits (Chris introduced them to me after he visited New Orleans once), egg whites, and sausage. I guess he had worked up quite an appetite.

"There you are," he said, still very engrossed in his paper that was definitely not of the local variety.

The food was still warm so I asked, "When'd you get up?"

"About an hour ago," he replied, turning the page. He even read with his shades on, something that struck me as… cute. However I needed to remind myself that sex without strings was just that. We were silent as I ate and he read, but I felt that he was taking a few glances at me over his newspaper. Though I hated when people did that I decided not to react, but instead enjoy my breakfast.

After I finished eating Wesker quickly got to his feet and placed his plate and mug in the dishwasher, and seeing as I finished off the platter I took that and my own plate to the same place. I started it and thought back on last night.

"Oh no," I groaned, suddenly remembering the awkward conversation I had with Chris. We hadn't used a condom. Trying not to overreact, I walked upstairs, knowing Wesker would be in his room. Before knocking I took a deep breath. Almost instantly the door was thrown open, revealing to me the shirtless blond who was probably about to shower.

"We didn't use protection." My statement was blunt, and I let my eyes fall to the floor once the words were spoken. When he didn't answer I looked up to his guarded eyes.

With a deep breath a smirk came onto his face. "Dear heart, I have been sterile since I died."

I meant to say "oh" but my mouth soundlessly opened to form the word instead. "But you're-"

"Miss Redfield, it is still within me. We are not compatible in such a way that we could bear offspring." With his reassurance came a smile. "Have you showered?"

As if he had given me a math problem that took up half a blackboard my face scrunched up. "I was about to."

He reached out to grab my forearm gently, and without much strength behind his actions he reeled me into his room. Realizing what this was I watched him close and lock his door-mostly from habit-before he returned his attention to me. His scent was strong today, not something that was unpleasant, but a man's own untainted smell was something that fascinated me once I became familiar with it. The urge to pull him down and bury my face in between his shoulder and throat almost overpowered me for a moment, I just wanted to be enveloped in his essence before he partially cloaked it with his cologne. I was so amazed that I was so fond of it after only being close enough to experience it a few times.

Before he took the opportunity away from me though I decided to give in to my want, closing the space between us to approach him, to pull him down by his neck and bury my nose in it. Lest I came off as strange I placed soft kisses here and there, discovering that once I touched my lips just to the right of his Adam's apple he would shudder with pleasure, so I just continued to repeat the stimulus to gain the same result to some extent to feed my own amusement. There was only so much more teasing he would take though, and grabbed me by my upper arms to hold me back and he stared me down for a moment before he took it upon himself to remove my shirt. He played with my breasts as he bent down to kiss me, this time it was passionate.

So this was what it was like after you gave up your virginity: you wanted more (granted things went well that is). It was a crazy whirlwind I was caught in, and before I knew it we were in the shower and I was glad we had slowed down because had we not everything would have just seemed to have gone by too quickly. I was amazed right now that he could make bathing feel like heaven. My wet hair pulled over my shoulder, I held myself up against the tiles with my back to Wesker, allowing him to massage soap into it.

As a matter of fact I found just about anything he did from behind made me want him more and more.

At this point I was willing to do just about anything and that was quite an accomplishment on his end because I would only do certain things for men in the past. I had experience with oral since I didn't have sex, and for some reason I felt like I needed to do this for the blond. Maybe because the men in the past were willing to tell me anything so I'd feel good enough to go all the way with them, but I needed someone with experience to confirm that I was as good as those past suitors claimed I was.

They weren't lying.

Wesker had to attempt to hold himself up against the slippery tile, and I think he almost came so he forced me out of the shower so he could actually get clean. Deciding to utilize those few minutes of free time I tried my best to wring my hair out in my towel, but it was still pretty damp when he finished. With his member still erect he stepped out of the shower before hurriedly drying himself off, and I couldn't recall ever seeing Wesker in a rush so that itself made me feel quite special.

He surprised me once more by lifting me up, requiring me to wrap my legs around his torso, and he carried me to his bed where we fell still wrapped up in each other. Since I had done something special for him he chose to return to favor, and let me say that it was better than I had dreamed. I tried so hard to save my orgasm for the actual sex but I was so sensitive now that just about anything would send me over the edge.

Just as I lost my ability to hold it back he stopped, and he finally took me. And it was a time for experimentation. He let me take control at one point, and under my lead he came in no time. I just stared on at his face as I felt his muscle inside of me spilling his seed into me, and this was the moment I realized that I cared about working up to. That face, the result, they were what I wanted.

The next few days were filled with the same schedule along with sex at random times, like on the couch where I learned exactly why most women said doggy style was their favorite position. Other than the sex our relationship had gone unchanged: we ate, worked on homework, and fucked which was an okay regime with me. Except by day four I was unable to walk normally or enjoy it with him because I had become so sore, and I had already been sore since the second day yet I champed it out because it was an unbelievably awesome way to pass the time. I lusted for him in such a desperate way, aching when I wanted him and he couldn't deliver immediately.

And guilt? There was none at all because I no longer cared. He may have been the same the rest of the day but as soon as Albert Wesker was turned on he became someone different, a person who cared about my comfort or pleasure rather than his own desire. When I told him I was unable to perform, he merely smiled to himself and placed a kiss on my forehead. My response? Of course I had to do him a little favor.

February 27, 2001 Tuesday 8:57 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Extremely horny

For a week we had gone uninterrupted by any of the townsfolk, until we received a phone call from Gwen stating that she wanted us to come by her place. Of course I pulled my "partner" aside though and seduced him before we left to endure a possibly boring visit.

A devilish grin in place he warned, "Dear heart, you do realize that we will be even more late?"

"You should have considered these things before introducing me to sex." Never had I seen Wesker smile so much than before or during intercourse. Since we were in a hurry a quickie on the floor would have to do, and as I held myself up on my elbow I felt something sharp dig into my skin. "Fuck!" I hissed, sitting up to locate the cause of the pain.

Frowning, Wesker picked a nicely-sized chunk of glass from my arm just below my right elbow. Apparently his cleanup job was not too thorough. "I will be right back."

Standing up from the ground, I tried to get a good look at my new injury, finding that it left in its wake a bloody gash. Wesker returned shortly, carrying a large, square Band-Aid, a wash cloth, and a bottle of peroxide which I grimaced at upon seeing.

"Are you all right?" he asked, frowning at the cut that was-let's be honest here-his fault… okay I helped. He poured some peroxide onto the cloth and began dabbing at my cut with it.

"It's okay." Wincing at the burning sensation, I tried to smile up at him, knowing that it would make him feel better, if he felt any guilt that is. Once the cut was cleaned he stuck the Band-Aid onto my arm before any more blood could begin gushing from the wound. "Thank you." This moment had become awkward, something that struck me as odd since we could be naked around each other, but anything else was just weird. With a slight smile to convey, "no problem," he stood and went back upstairs to put the towel in the hamper and to replace the peroxide in his cabinet.

The doorbell dinged its pleasantly, soft ring, and with a groan of exasperation I turned to walk to the door to see who it was. "I'll get it!" I announced, reaching for the knob without thinking to see who was there first. Big mistake.

February 27, 2001 Tuesday 9:15 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Speechless

What I finally considered my home was now flooded with cackling townies who were bringing in a banquet of deserts, food, and drinks of the regular and alcoholic variety. "Gwen you shouldn't have," I said through clenched teeth. Apparently, the blonde horticulturist thought that our tardiness signaled that we had decided to flake out on them and miss our surprise engagement party, but seeing as Sara and Jeffrey were in fact newly engaged they should have assumed that they were making like rabbits which was the case.

Her husband, Carl was the one to point this out to her though. "Gwen they just got engaged do you think they're gonna be on time for _anything_ for a few months?"

"Oh shut up and help set up before people start eating on the floor! Do you have any tables Sara? Sorry we didn't think _that_ far ahead."

Wesker showed up behind me suddenly and said, "I'll unlock the shed."

Turning and placing a hand on his chest I instead offered to do it just to get out of the house for three minutes. He handed me the keys and I grabbed my coat before jogging to the shed which was about three hundred yards back and to the left of the house just near the edge of the woods. I had never been back here mainly because Wesker would always run off to this location when there was company so I assumed things he didn't want me to see were hidden away in the storage facility. When he willingly handed me the keys though I saw that that wasn't the case.

The frozen lock gave me some trouble as I forcefully turned the key this way and that, but after a two minute struggle I managed to pull it loose. The forever suspicious Redfield in me said to take a look inside, but the other part said to trust Wesker when he said that there was nothing dangerous on this land. It was hard to go by his word though when there was still a room he kept locked upstairs. With a deep breath I decided to let the men who would be getting the tables slide the doors open themselves when they arrived.

Just as I turned back I heard a few icy twigs snap, and I quickly spun in the direction which was towards the woods. In the darkness I made out nothing, and not even the floodlights that illuminated the shed door for me helped in locating a trespasser. Maybe it was a deer or something, which I highly doubted since I had never witnessed a wild animal on this land, but then again being a country-turned-city girl I never much cared to gander at nature from the windows anymore. The remnants of country in me had faded since the days where Chris and I lived with our parents came to a sudden end, and all that was left to remind me that I once chased squirrels, climbed trees, and collected tadpoles were my tomboyish tendencies.

More rustling and crunching against unmelted snow sounded, and I took a hesitant step in the direction of the darkly veiled foliage. A hand appeared on my shoulder and I jumped around out of reflex, knowing there was a chance that I would have to fight if it came down to that.

"Are you okay?" Just as I was about to grab the man I noticed that it was Carl and a few other of the local men.

Swallowing hard to wash down my embarrassment I breathed, "Yeah. I just thought I heard something."

With a nod towards the darkness Carl advised, "I think it's best you stay away from those woods Miss Ivanov. Outsiders come here sometimes, go in there and never come back out. People say it's cold but there are grizzlies, antelope, elk, moose, and wolves. 'Surprised you two haven't had a bear problem out here, but it is winter so it's hibernation time. Some still stay awake though. Wolves'll tear through your garbage too and give you 'bout as much trouble."

Sincerely I said, "I had no idea."

"Yeah but recently some local boys have gone missing that knew better. I'll be the first to admit that there's been some suspicious activity." With a frown he looked away and led the men to the shed, and I wondered for a moment if Wesker should know about this.

I didn't hurry back to the house, but I beat the men back anyway. The Luomas were there by the time I stepped in through the kitchen door, and my, oh my, were Mary and Stephanie looking quite sour. Ignoring the gossiping group next to me I searched over the small crowd for Wesker and it was unbelievable that I really didn't care what they were saying. They were talking about my abrupt departure last week and my bandaged arm, but they could begin saying we had a UFO under the garage for all I cared because any established suspicious activity was more important than rumors.

When the hell did I become the president's bodyguard?

I found the blond in the dining room, staring down at a beautifully decorated cake with baby blue frosting and the word "congratulations" written across the top in cursive. And it was quite a large cake. As a matter of fact desert took up more of the table than the food. Okay I had to stop obsessing with cake before that moment on the lips shit caught up to me.

Pulling Wesker to the side I began whispering to him. "Carl was saying there was some suspicious activity in the woods and that some kids went missing recently."

Looking around for a moment he leaned down to my ear. "You do realize that said kids were sixteen-year-old boys discovering the glories of alcohol and sex?" His shaded face turned to me so he could look me in my eyes with a look that I guessed was meant to be reassuring but then again sometimes you really couldn't tell with him.

"I _heard_ something back there," I replied sounding desperate that he consider the worst first.

"Miss Redfield," he began, cupping my cheek in his hand, "I have other forms of security that are not so obvious. If my adversary were near I would know it."

With the tiniest of smirks I said, "So you don't need me."

He closed his eyes and smiled at that, shaking his head. "I have come to find that not everyone on a payroll is trustworthy. Therefore yes, I do."

Our moment was interrupted as Gwen began clapping her hands and yelling, "Everybody! Here, here!" After the dining room was flooded, pinning Wesker and me in our little corner and the house was quiet she looked to us happily. "Tonight is a celebration for this lovely couple, and soon _Miss _Sara Ivanov will be _Mrs. Sara Saunders_. So, congratulations to the two of you and I _hope_ I speak for us all here when we say that we hope you two enjoy many years down the road as husband and wife!"

Because it was expected I couldn't help but smile at her, and the room was soon filled with clapping and laughter. This party, though unexpected, turned out to be quite fun. We danced, we ate, women awed at my ring, and Frank even stole a dance with me to assure me that he was happy for me. I could tell from his tone he still had faith in his wife and daughter, that they would change their ways and become more pleasant people but I felt that the only way that would happen would be if maybe they lost him for a while.

I felt bad for thinking that way but it was true that sometimes you had to lose someone close to you before you could truly appreciate what they had to say and offer.

Everyone had chipped in for the cleanup which made it super easy, and all the food and drinks left over were given to us to stuff into the fridge so we wouldn't be hungry for a while. Both tired, Wesker and I sat on the couch, my head resting against his shoulder.

"I. Am. Exhausted." It was only a four hour shindig but maybe since I had had fun it was worse on me than when I faked it.

I felt the vibrations of his voice rumble within his chest. "How exhausted?" Smirking I pushed myself up and lifted my left knee to straddle him. A voice chided how out of character and strange our attitudes towards each other had become, but I pushed it to the side as I brought my lips to his to initiate a kiss.

When I stopped to breathe he whispered, "I need to take out that last table first."

Groaning I let him up. "Hurry!" I ordered playfully, removing my shirt to emphasize that I was ready _now_. I watched him exit with the portable table through the kitchen door, breathing deeply when that voice reminded me again of how strange things had become.

_Bravo __**Dear Heart**__. You are now fucking your client. You know it's wrong, and it'd kill Chris to find out you're screwing his sworn enemy: one of the most dangerous and wanted men in the world._

I was so tempted to reply, but it would have been embarrassing to be caught talking to myself.

_And there's no point in ignoring what you know Claire: this is wrong… that is, __**if**__ you don't care for him. I think we both know you do care for him. Smiling and flirting after a week of sex? How sweet._

I shook the voice from my mind. Of course I was beginning to like Wesker more now that we were sleeping together (I really couldn't remember exactly when I started sleeping in his bedroom), and I could tell that his feelings towards me had changed too. True this was just sex, but we were getting along so well, and we were communicating more even if it was through flirty humor. At a pleasant memory from last week I chuckled, but then I was interrupted by a pained howl.

_Wesker._

I almost ran outside before I remembered to put my shirt back on and grab my gun and a flashlight from upstairs. Not caring who heard me approach, I ran outside having to bite my tongue as I almost called out, "Wesker." The shed doors were wide open with the first few feet inside lit by the floodlight, the table left on the ground just before them. "Are you in there?" I asked loudly, my Beretta aimed at the ground, and I clicked on the flashlight to check it out. The light roamed over a riding mower and just then I heard a groan come through the trees.

With a gasp I asked, "Jeffrey?" One foot before the other I marched, my hand with the gun crossed over the hand with the flashlight as Chris and Jill had taught me. "Jeffrey?" On the ground I saw footprints, and I followed them into the woods, wary of every little shaking of a branch. Fifty feet in there was a clearing where the moonlight streamed in, and there someone lay on the ground seething in agony.

It was Wesker.

Caution being forgotten I rushed to his side, nearly sliding down in the leftover snow, the adrenaline in me keeping me from feeling any of the cold still. "What happened?" I demanded, running the flashlight over him, finding that his left upper arm was bleeding. "Wesker, who did this?"

Blowing out a breath that was meant to diminish the feel of the pain he grabbed his wounded arm. "I'm not sure." I could tell that he was ashamed. He wasn't used to this sort of pain anymore, and he was left to suffer like a human.

"It's a rifle shot but I can't be sure what kind." There was rustling behind me, and aiding Wesker had to wait. I turned around as quickly as I could and saw a man approach us with his rifle in hand, leaving me with no choice but to act. I aimed for his torso, the sound of my gun frightened some roosting birds, and the force of the bullet sent the attacker falling back.

In shock of what I had just done, I stayed by Wesker, staring at what now could only be considered a body lying in the snow. I shushed the injured man before quietly getting to my feet, the flashlight tightly held in my left hand, and with a quick scan of the body I realized that everything that transpired tonight had been a huge mistake. The man wore a camouflage coat and overalls with matching boots and a matching cap.

"Oh my God," I breathed, noting that there was no sign of life and my bullet that was aimed to disarm had killed a hunter.

"Pete what the hell-" The new voice belonged to a man whose outfit matched Pete's. "What the hell did you do?" he demanded, running over to kneel down to his fallen friend.

I stepped back from him to attend to Wesker while he unsuccessfully attempted to rouse Pete. "What are you two doing on our land?" I asked, finding that Wesker was growing colder and quieter.

The man took in the sight of the shivering blond whose side I occupied, and his eyes became as big as saucers. "Not again."

"_What_?" I almost shrieked? Apparently this wasn't the first incident where Pete had hit a person instead of a deer. When Carl's warning returned to me I threw up my Berretta at the man, instantly causing him to drop his Browning BAR rifle. "You killed those boys," I whispered in the cold air, nothing but serious.

"We-we didn't kill anybody!" he protested, throwing his hands up in the air.

"It was an accident that you had to keep under wraps," I hypothesized out loud, frowning in disgust at him.

Nervously he threw out, "If you call the cops you go to jail too!"

"I was defending myself! He shot my fiancé!" Speaking of which I started to get to my feet, one arm around Wesker's waist to help him up. "Now help me get him inside!" I ordered, jutting the mouth of my gun at him. He gave a glare of defiance, but eventually he left Pete's body and wobbled over.

Once inside we set Wesker on the floor of the den, and as I dialed 911 I kept my gun aimed at the hunter. That calm voice asked what my emergency was and I instantly began talking. "My fiancé, he's been shot in the arm."

"Who is the victim?" the male operator asked.

"Jeffrey Saunders."

"What happened?" he asked, prompting me to look into the hunter's eyes for a moment. I couldn't tell the truth.

"Um, I don't know he was in the woods behind the house. Look he's bleeding badly can you just get someone here?" Wesker's silence was unnerving and the sleepy look he gave me said that soon he would be passing out either from pain or blood loss. "We're on Saunders Lane just get someone here!" I commanded, pressing the off button on the phone.

With a furious gaze the man asked, "What am I supposed to do about my friend?"

Cradling the blonde's head my own snapped up to stare down the remaining half of the duo made up of clumsy hunters. "The same thing you did with the boys!" I cried. There was no way more than one boy was shot accidentally, meaning that Pete had to have killed one unintentionally, and the others had to be silenced because they knew what had happened.

"You fucking bitch you're going down," he threatened.

"Your friend just shot a very important and influential man here and internationally. If anyone goes down it'll be you. You covered up deaths, you are hunting on _my _land, and you just shot a powerful man." Check and mate bitch, I thought evilly."Get rid of the body, get rid of the gun," I warned. "This is a favor to you since I'm letting you go. Take it."

Pursing his lips to keep from further angering me he pushed himself up from the wooden floor and stormed out the kitchen door. Quickly and apologetically I laid Wesker's head down on the floor to go grab a dish towel to wipe up the tracks left by the hunter. I couldn't believe I had just saved the reputations of murderers, intentional or not they should have been behind bars. Yet I had also killed a man tonight, though not innocent I had taken the life of a human being, and I could now see that I was slipping farther and farther away from Claire Redfield the college student and closer to Claire Redfield the traitor.

February 28, 2001 Wednesday 2:13 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Worried

The ride to Beartooth Hospital was long for me as we rode in the shaky ambulance, and the wait in the lobby was even worse. Giving a statement was pretty boring as the overweight cop looked like he was in dire need of a sugar rush from some donuts and coffee. And once I was left alone the lobby I couldn't sit in those ugly, blue chairs; instead I paced back and forth, every now and then glancing at the television that broadcasted CNN to check the time. A figure in blue scrubs came through the doors and I stood up straight as he neared me.

"Miss Ivanov?" He asked, reaching for my hand.

"Yeah," I said, confirming my identity.

"Dr. Sheen." His lack of a smile frightened me despite it only being a gunshot wound to the arm, but I had to mentally kick myself for worrying. "Jeffrey is going to make a full recovery." I took in a deep breath and fought the urge to hug the bearer of the good news. "We found some wood in his wound so the bullet was slowed down by a tree which is why it got lodged in his arm."

It felt so odd that I was caring about Wesker's recovery and I tried to tell myself that it was because he had to live up to his half of the bargain, but that was not true. "When can he come home?" It was what I should have said in such a situation, but honestly I really did want to know.

"Well, I'd like to talk to you about something else first." The salt and pepper haired man jerked his head back towards the doors he had just come through, signaling for me to follow. "We found something strange," he began, stopping in front of a room that I assumed to be Wesker's, and his words had me on the alert, "the wound is fresh no doubt judging by its outside appearance." My breath caught in my throat as I considered what he could have said next.

"However," he drawled, adjusting his glasses much like how Wesker would, "it appears that the muscle has been healing for at least a few days."

My shock was hidden well as I gave the tiniest giggle and crossed my arms over my chest. "Well, when he was young they used to call him 'Little Superman,'" I lied, making up childhood nicknames in the movies always seemed to alleviate suspicion, however the look the doctor gave me said that most likely that wouldn't work. The cogs in my head were turning though as I tried to ask myself what that could have meant for him. Was it the virus? It couldn't have been when I had been looking so closely into his eyes that were still to this day blue, but these things were tricky sometimes because even when Steve returned to his human form with his own eye color he was still very much infected.

Sighing, Dr. Sheen said, "Miss Ivanov, we want to keep him for testing for a few extra days-"

Gritting my teeth with that same fake smile I said, "He's a fast healer Dr. Sheen."

"Yes but-"

"Okay then just drop it," I whispered, my head was bent down but I looked up at him with my eyes angrily. He seemed to finally get that this was forbidden territory and that maybe there was nothing to test for, so he left the subject.

Pulling his clipboard from under his arm he pretended to search it. "Apparently he was shot with a hunting rifle but there was no sign of a perpetrator." I shook my head at the older man who looked quite pissed off that I was not willing to share a Petri dish with a drop of Wesker's blood for further and more complicated testing.

"So when can he come home?" I asked, shifting my weight onto my right leg.

"At the end of the week. I would say with forty around the corner for Mr. Saunders it should take a little over two months to heal but apparently, 'Little Superman' will do it in half that time," he huffed, immediately taking off down the hallway, his reaction making me want smirk. How childish.

With the smallest of smiles I made my way into the door, closing the door quietly behind me. Wesker's head turned in my direction, he looked pathetic which is more than likely how he felt since he had to be hooked up to machines that were supplying him with painkillers at his command. The pained look on his face told me though that was not using his clicker though, and that was probably due to pride. "How are you?" I asked, sitting on the side of his bed.

He faced the ceiling. "Age coupled with being a mortal creates the most pathetic state a human can endure."

Licking my lips I adjusted myself and gave a smile. "Which in a few months will no longer be an issue?" I gained no reply from him, making me think that maybe he'd be a human for the remainder of his years. "Right?"

His silence and somber demeanor hinted that I should no longer linger on the subject of his status as human, and that he no longer cared to think about it while he lie in a hospital bed in pain. "A part of me," I began, running my thumb over my other thumbnail as a means of occupation, "feels bad for not reporting the murders of those boys."

This made him look at me. "You cannot. The gun used to shoot that man is registered to Claire Redfield, and you _are_ Claire Redfield. They would discover your identity and your brother would come for you. What would you say to him dear heart?"

He was right. This was something that I had already taken into consideration, but the goodness in me wished to do the noble thing. Not only would I put my own freedom at risk but the life that I was willing to throw my morals out the window to save would have been in danger as well. "You're right," I admitted to him, unable to stand the silence between us anymore.

For the remainder of the week Wesker and I had to remember that he was in the hospital (some days we would kiss which would lead to me attempting to get into bed with him) and though his wound was healing up at a less accelerated rate than it had been initially he noticed no change in his progress. I didn't tell him what the doctor had said, and I knew that I should have. So I decided that the day we went home I would say something about it to him, fearing the change this would cause in whatever relationship we had.

So I tried to enjoy this down time despite my phobia of hospitals: I was afraid to even walk down the halls to get anything to eat so Wesker had them send me some food along with his. After the first night I had called Gwen up and asked her and Carl to come for a favor which they agreed to. Fearing that his nemesis would have somehow heard of this I asked Carl to stay with Wesker while Gwen took me back to house to get some clothes since I couldn't let her in the house alone, and just as I was about to get in the Trailblazer and follow her back to the hospital we were ambushed by a few reporters who were attempting to hound me about Jeffrey's current state and location.

We managed to get away and I called the cops upon my return to the hospital since they were trespassing on private property, and I assumed that the matter would be dealt with.

"Thank you so much," I said as I hugged Gwen tightly. Now I wished that I had met her and Carl first rather than the Luomas, who had been calling incessantly since they found out about the shooting, but I told them not to come because Jeffrey was drained.

"It's no problem," the blonde assured me, smoothing some stray hairs back on my head. "I won't tell that busybody Mary a thing." Though we were no longer hugging we still held on to each other's arms tightly as though we were childhood friends. I dreaded the day that I would part from this place now that I had managed to make what I could call a real friend.

Looking into her chocolate colored eyes I gave a sigh of gratitude. "That would be great."

"Oh I hope the rat bastard that did this is caught," she sighed, looking to the resting blond.

The smallest smile on my face appeared. "I couldn't agree more." The memory of Wesker telling me that so long as the bullet belonging to Claire Redfield's gun was in Pete's chest that there was no way justice would be served chimed in my mind. Those boys could never be given the peace they deserved, or their families.

"If there's anything else we can do just let us know."

Her kindness had touched me deeply, and I realized that after the Raccoon City incident I had lost faith in mankind and expected everyone to be truly horrible on the inside. "You've done enough as it is. We should be all right for the rest of the week."

And so we were until the day Wesker was discharged.

March 7, 2001 Wednesday 2:17 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Anxious

I watched him watch the news as he did every day, biting the cap of my pen as I once more deviated away from working on my English final. Not the one to jump up and down for joy he quietly awaited the news that his papers had been processed, but I knew that he was happy about that, the sling he would have… not so much. My news to him would definitely leave him stuck between elated and disappointed since I took a whole week to tell him that his body was displaying signs of reaction to his virus. Then again he was halfway done with his estimated period of being human anyhow.

Tapping my pen against the book on my lap I began biting my lip, and he noticed that something had me anxious. "You ready to get dressed?" So not what was supposed to come out just now.

Sitting up with a groan he said, "I suppose so." The process took much care when it came to putting on his shirt, and it was a good thing he had good balance when it came time to put on his jeans. "Are you all right?"

I hadn't smiled all day long, something that was definitely out of character for me, but since he had asked maybe it was the incentive I needed to come clean about my side conversation with Dr. Sheen. "The doctor," I began, hesitating from uncertainty, "he said that it looked like the damage to your muscle had been healing for days already."

Though he had put his shades on I could tell that this surprised even him as his blond eyebrows rose above the frames. Then he shook it off as nothing. "The virus is still within me, therefore it is expected that it would show at times."

Frowning, I was tempted to ask if he was angry that I waited so long to mention this, but if he was not I did not wish to stir the pot. We rode home together, speaking every now and then; one of the conversations was on whether or not all of that leftover food was still any good, and I really hoped so because I wanted food at that moment instead of having to wait until later. For now I just wanted for some peace.

March 7, 2001 Wednesday 3:54 PM

Subject: Kennedy, Leon Scott

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Fine

Maritza's face lit up once she saw me through her peephole, and she happily took my suitcase to place it next to the door so she could pull me into a kiss. "I'm so glad you're here," she breathed happily as her grip around my neck tightened. "Business first?" she asked with a devilish grin.

With a thoughtful look I replied with, "I had a few rough days." She took that as "hell yes." After our proper greeting that every girlfriend should learn we lie in her bed to recuperate, and I began appreciating that she worked out even more than before.

"So," she began, tracing circles on my chest with her index finger, "What top secret mission are you here for this time?"

Smirking I said, "It's been completed."

"I surely hope not."

My smile fading I looked into her hazel orbs, hoping that my sudden change of attitude did not scare her. "Don't you think we're moving kind of fast?"

Much to my surprise her grin stayed in place. "I'll say. Fucking the first date isn't exactly taking things slow Mr. Scott Kennedy."

Most women had an issue with rushing like this, unless they really weren't looking for a real relationship, and I was no crybaby but I was young yet still wanted a stable relationship. Traveling from city to city, screwing a new girl every time was not very appealing, but if I could have someone that was okay with my frequent absence then that issue would be solved. "Would you consider me…"

She rolled onto me and stared down into my eyes, and I saw myself reflected in hers. "Well I'm right to assume am I not? I mean, I've been blowing off coworkers left and right with, 'I have a boyfriend.'" With a chuckle I stretched my neck up to plant a kiss on her plump lips. "Let's get dressed. I'm starving."

I enjoyed that she had no problem with me playing video games while she cooked, of course I felt that I should have been offended for the reason why she declined my help: she said I would have messed it all up. That was actually very true but she didn't know that at the time. I was willing to let her off the hook though since she dared to cook in jeans and a bra which I hoped would not be a choice she'd soon regret with all the popping and sizzling I heard behind me.

"You're dying!" she called as I once again failed in beating Sub-Zero. Shaking my head I tossed the controller onto the couch and stole a glance at her.

Jokingly I said back, "And you're taking too long. I'm dying of starvation!"

"Don't rush perfection silly American."

I could only smile, thinking to myself that I had to be pretty lucky to land a chick like her, but I didn't want to begin selling myself short. Maybe I had done something right for her to want me. Then I remembered what lead me to meeting Maritza in the first place, and I felt quite ashamed that I had so easily forgotten that my friend lived right across the hall from my new girlfriend. I didn't wanna make Maritza suspicious or jealous but in all honesty it was the perfect way to keep an eye on Claire. Apparently much like her brother she was good at disappearing, but she wasn't a hulking guy that could break a man's jaw with one punch.

Stretching a bit I stood to turn to game off. "Hey have you seen or heard from Claire lately? I know she's traveling but she has to come home every now and then," I added, taking my seat once more.

"No she hasn't been back at all. I go knock a few times every week and she's never there. Finished." She immediately began pulling plates down from the cabinet, and I hurried over to help set the table.

Frowning at the silverware I was setting down I asked, "I wonder where she's been? Chris claimed to have spoken to her by calling her number."

With a shrug she said, "Maybe she's been forwarding the calls to a different number."

Absent mindedly I nodded, finding it odd that Claire hadn't come home yet when usually it was the only place you could find her. I leaned against the table in thought, wondering if something was going on that she wasn't telling Chris. What if she had gone and joined some sort of organization instead of listening to her brother, and what if she was in some sort of trouble? The fact that she was a Redfield should have been enough to stop those thoughts dead in their tracks though, and we all knew that Claire would never run off without letting people know what was going on. If she was putting her life in danger then she would have let Chris know without a doubt.

She was traveling with friends. That's exactly what she was doing.

March 7, 2001 Wednesday 10:17 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Fine

Helping Wesker proved to be no problem at all, although he could be a stubborn patient at times by attempting to do certain things alone when it required the use of both arms. His appetite for real food had been sated, as was mine, and he was clean and dressed for bed. Once again it was like the fucking Twilight Zone as I took care of the once mighty Albert Wesker who never needed the aid of a human woman.

Pulling his sheets back on his bed I looked to the shirtless blond and smirked. "So are you going to bed early tonight? If so you need to take your meds now." In return he threw me one of those famous half grins of his and he made his way over to the bed.

"No not yet." He looked uncomfortable as he lay on his back, unable to turn over and enjoy the comfort of his own bed.

With a sigh I sat next to him, smoothing out the sheet for no real reason, it was just something to do. "Do you want to sleep alone tonight?" A large hand grabbed hold of my arm and gently tugged me down to its owner's face. I could finally admit that when he was shot that I was afraid that it would have been whoever had made him human. I cared for him in some way. Further prompting was unneeded as I chose to go in for the kiss, caressing his right shoulder with my thumb.

Beneath me I felt him breathing in and out deeply in contentment with my presence, but I soon it became evident that he wanted more. His current condition of course made me have second thoughts about giving in to passion, and instead I chose to leave a trail of kisses down his chest and stomach. Without a glance to receive affirmation that this was an all right substitute I exposed his length through the hole in his boxers and took him into my mouth. Slowly I sucked, glancing up at him a few times just to see his look of satisfaction, and I began to ache for him badly. Because I knew there was only so long that I could hold myself back I tried my hardest to bring him to his release, but I think he purposely kept himself from doing that.

"Oh fuck it," I groaned, pulling off my tee as I began to straddle him. Foreplay was always one of the best parts of sex with Wesker, but we really couldn't do much because of his arm so I would just have to miss out on that tonight. After throwing off my sweatpants and panties I returned to my dominating position, and this was welcomed with a moan from the blond. I didn't want to talk about feelings with him just yet, maybe later because right now all I wanted to feel was him within me.

I moved up and down slowly, my eyes shut until I felt him take one of my breasts into his hand. Then we stared each other down intensely, both of our mouths slightly parted as I rocked back and forth at that same slow pace. His left arm was bound but I could tell that he wanted so badly to pull me down to him for a kiss, which at the time was not so important to me. This was enough.

For a while it seemed like he wasn't handling being handled so well, until he eventually gave in to me, allowing me to continue demonstrating dominance over him. Not one time did I speed up, because for once this wasn't for the purpose of orgasm, it was because I wanted to enjoy this and become so lost in the moment that the next time I looked at the clock I would be surprised. My hands wandered up his abs, admiring the body that almost appeared as if it were carved perfectly.

He slid in and out of me so easily now, which I guess caused a greater feeling of pleasure since a few times he bucked his hips up aggressively. Gently touching my hand to his chest though, I reminded him that this was all under my control right now. Then when I finally began to think of nothing I felt myself tightening and at that very same moment he made that familiar face and I could feel him spilling into me. He had managed to stay quiet, as did I, something that made the moment feel all the more intense. I let out a deep sigh and got up off of him, walking to the bathroom to clean myself up.

When I returned he had moved over from the middle of the bed to make room for me to lie next to him, and before I took my place I took him into my mouth once more, removing anything left over from either of us. I found that he received some magnified feeling of pleasure when I did this for him.

Carefully, I lay next to him, pulling the string on the lamp next to the bed to turn it off, and then I pulled the sheets up over our naked bodies. We did not sleep, but instead we just rested in the dark, not speaking a word to one another but instead enjoying each others' company.

I couldn't stop myself from potentially ruining the moment though with a very female question. "Wesker? Do you care for me?"

A chuckle left his lips as he looked in my direction, most likely unable to see specifics. "I have grown fond of you Claire, as I assume you have of me." His wording as usual came from the tact of a true gentleman, yet I believed what he said and didn't see it as a way of saying that he was just in it for some ass. "However," he continued, "I know that we do not feel love for one another."

It hurt a little to be said aloud but he meant no harm seeing as he spoke the truth. "So you expected this?" I asked, searching for his eyes in the darkness.

"Dear heart what I expected was for you to bolt from this house after three days." I heard a smile somewhere in his voice, letting it be known that he was willing and able to take jokes about our current status. "I considered it a possibility that we would come to where we are now after the night in the car."

We fell silent after his admission, and I allowed him to wrap his good arm around me not for my own comfort, but because he wanted to do it himself. My dreams were filled with his image, that night in the woods, and that pained look upon his face. It was less of a nightmare and more of a wakeup call for me and what this had become. I was no longer staying for my brother; it had become me staying for Albert Wesker and his safety. This was something that would have made me cry had I said this out loud while I was awake, but the revelation dealt a much softer jab in my dreams.

What started as one night of sex became an ongoing affair that both of us ended getting caught up in so far to the point that he was admitting to feeling something for me other than lust. Already I felt a sense of doom. Albert Wesker and a Redfield.

March 8, Thursday 2001 8:00 AM

Subject: Redfield, Chris

Location: Classified

Status: Fine

My patience was beginning to wear thin with the man who claimed to detest Wesker more than I did myself, and I was even beginning to question his intentions. As he rambled on and on about tactics and shit that I already knew about my ex-captain I massaged my temples to keep my temper in check. I could tell that he was an intelligent man that had done all of his homework on Umbrella and the things they had been responsible for, but he still managed to come off as odd to me, making me wish that I had thought a lot more like Jill when it came to judging a person's character upon the first meeting.

My vexation had become noticeable to Colonel Vladimir. "Mr. Redfield is there a problem?" Stopping mid-speech to address an issue was usually meant as a mean to embarrass the person causing the problem or displaying any disagreement whatsoever. And though I was grateful for his help I was not willing to let him talk down to me.

Dropping my hand onto the table nosily, I looked around at all of the suits who were staring me down for my "interruption." "It's just that you keep talking about this grand scheme that's been put into action but we're seeing no results."

Holding his hands behind his back he stepped forward. "You better than anyone should know that he is like a little cockroach, nearly impossible to locate and kill." I detected the slightest of insults in there, but I chose to ignore it before I was thrown out of here for insubordination.

"I do understand that but I would just like to know exactly what your plan was to kill him in the first place?" Then all eyes returned to the Russian, and he squinted with his one good eye.

He grinned, seeming somewhat malevolent in doing so, his hatred being that great for the man that should have been in a coffin long ago. "I had a little project going to ensure that he would remain dead once killed." Proudly he looked around the room, sneering at every, single interested face he passed over, including my own. "My comrades Albert Wesker is in a very vulnerable state right now and we have choice but to-how do you Americans say-strike while the iron is hot."

A few months ago I put my plan into action and since he has not been heard from since then it is safe to say that gentlemen, I have succeeded in turning Albert Wesker back to his original state: human."

My mouth fell open and he turned to stare directly at me, loving the look on my face and that he basically just made me look like an ass. I could not believe what I was hearing. This man just presented me with the largest opportunity ever, and I would surely jump at the chance that was given to me. I would kill Albert Wesker.

A/N: Surprised I updated this week, and sorry but I was short maybe five pages. I couldn't just drag this chapter out. So nice how the date of his discharge was my 10th b-day and no I didn't plan that :). Since the story is sort of AU I feel I should tell you what will differ from the game even though that's far down the line: no Degeneration (only saw a bit) and Africa. There will be no Kijuju or Uroboros bullshit. Sorry for the language but that is sincerely how I feel. I felt cheated by the crap they took forever to produce i.e. Resident Evil 5. I hated Wesker's sudden extra-maniacal shift (D.C. Douglas irked my effing nerves) and I hated the hell out of Sheva who made me long for Rebecca instead. My brother argues that I hate RE5 because Wesker dies which is not true; it has to do with the thrown-together-to-say-we-did-it story line and the _way_ he dies. I honestly didn't finish playing after my brother beat it and I saw that and he can beg for me to play it all he wants but it ain't happening. Ahem, sorry for the rant just my opinion. But yes I will introduce that whore Excella, Sheva, and that weird baby-voiced wannabe mobster sounding guy, the story-line will just be different and so I'll have to come up with something and decide on whether to keep Jill's KIA story. As for the Chronicles games' events I'm keeping them for the purpose of a strain on any relationship Claire and Wesker will have. Amparo will happen with Manuela though I hate her guts, and the Russia event will happen of course because it plays a pretty important role in both the games and this story. All right now that that's done please review.


	8. Dormientes

A/N: "Dormientes" means "sleeping." So glad to say I got 1000 hits in one day from US readers and I like to see how many international readers I have. I know the difference between hits and visitors but I would love even more if y'all review at least just once if never again. :3 Also this chapter may not be as long. Not much left to do in Red Lodge. Ready to write and submit the big event in Denver already XD. Well it starts in Denver. Ugh I just can't wait to write from Wesker's POV. But we'll see how this comes out because I ain't in a good mood. A friend is deleted from my life and I JUST found out I have to retake the math class that had me up many a night in the spring so I can take my Stat class. It saddens me because I thought I was through with Algebra but it's gonna have to wait a semester cause I have a night class to think about.

Naoko Suki: Of course he does lol. Younger men tend to think pain equals good sex, but if my fiancé is twenty-five and understands how sex works then I'm sure someone who's forty will definitely know how to get the job done. I knew I had to take into account once a woman loses her virginity she kinda goes wild. And Douglas… he started ok then when he got to RE5 he just completely lost Wesker's character in some parts. As for Sergei I still want to know why he cuts himself. Anger?

PurgatoryNymphe: Well Chris isn't going to find out for a _long_ while, Naoko knows this *wink wink.* The more I play the games and write Wesker the more I find myself questioning him. I can't see him as evil anymore. I think he can love, he seems the type to leave a million dollar diamond necklace on the nightstand but he wouldn't be just flaunting his affections like holding hands in public.

NinMetro: I haven't been either, so let's hope we both stay bullet-free.

Olivia-B52007: We don't have things like that here at the university I go to, just music and free sno-cones, popcorn and such. And at least the clumsy hunter was finally stopped by Claire!

EchoCIDE: So glad you updated and I VOTED! I just haven't had quiet time to read chapter twelve : (

BlueMorpho2: I hope you enjoyed your vacation! I haven't had any trouble picking chapter titles for this story at all. I think them being in Latin makes them sound better too. I think Wesker should have died taking Chris with him. I think it should have been hand-to-hand, no Uroboros, no Sheva, no volcano or RPGs. I would have preferred him not dying since I'm a fan, but really Chris vs. Wesker should lead to a dead Chris. I liked Waugh in RE 4 because I feel like he got it down then. Douglas was just too over the top in 5 with the yelling every five seconds and sounding even more European than they usually have Wesker sound. The Remake VA was ok but he didn't really sound intimidating at all. Like when he says, "Don't be a hard dog to keep under the porch Barry." I laughed. And Sheva… I just don't like her. I guess it's a "Who's this new bitch having a hand in WESKER'S death reaction," but I can't grow to like her either since I refuse to play 5 any further so now every time my brother plays everything she does makes me go shut the *bleep* up. And I'm just now realizing she looks like Hunnigan, then again I barely think of her, just when I listen to the calls between Ingrid "Hannah" and Krauser in Darkside Chronicles since I played 4 so much I skipped over any cut scene not involving Wesker. Hey, I've rambled dozens of times so no problem.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. I only own this fic and original characters.

Optio

Chapter 8: Dormientes

March 21, 2001 Wednesday 2:15 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Happy

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Sara, happy birthday to you!"

It was an understatement when I said that I didn't expect a party for my twenty-second birthday, but with Gwen being my new friend in town I would have been a fool not to think a birthday cake and a rented out restaurant wouldn't be in my future. Wesker swore he had nothing to do with it, so that meant that I should expect a huge surprise later at home. Honestly what I wanted from him was for him to finish my finals up so I could just take it easy on my day, but seeing as he was a firm believer in academics I doubted that he would have made my college career a piece of pie for me.

"You know I didn't want a party," I reminded Gwen as she took her seat across the table from me. She gave a coy smile and set her napkin on her lap. "I swear to God," I began, my threat losing its effect due to my chuckling, "there better not be any presents."

Raising her hands as if in surrender she assured me, "No one brought a present. This is just a get together with friends for your birthday. And this cake will get finished." That last part was a reference to the shooting and how it tore us away from all of the home cooked food we had left over. We could have brought it to the hospital but I couldn't call Gwen up every time I needed something microwaved because I was too afraid to walk to the nurse's station alone.

"You lied to me," I said to Wesker on the drive home. "I knew you weren't just taking me somewhere for my birthday." For some reason he only smirked at me, making me suspicious of him even though my birthday lunch was over, I had a feeling there was something more. Halfway down Long Street I saw a large truck meant for moving or delivering peel out of Saunders Lane, and my eyes became slits as I turned to the driver. "Wesker?"

He had not fully healed from his wound but he was going without his sling, and he insisted on driving since he could seeing as he wasn't left-handed. His left hand could be used for flicking on the signal lights but too much arm movement would cause for him to wince at the pain. Another thing that was still affected by his handicap was his sexual performance, and it left him giving the dominant position up to me since we liked to look each other in the eyes during.

For some reason he did not park under the shed as he usually did, instead he left the BMW uncovered to the right of the house on the gravel driveway. "Where are you going?" he asked as I made my way around to the back door.

Nonchalantly I called back to him, "We always use the kitchen door!" His pace quickened behind me and then he began jogging to catch up to me and I froze in place at the sight of a black sheet that was meant for covering one of my most favorite things: bikes. Once he found that I was staring down my surprise I looked to him with disbelief shining in my eyes, and I slowly made my way over to tear the sheet away from a brand new Harley-Davidson.

My eyes were wide and refused to close on my shiny, new _red_ toy for fear that this was just some fantastical dream. "A 2001 Harley-Davidson XL1200S Sportster! You gotta be fucking kidding me (yeah I knew the whole name)!" Like a kid with a new toy I had to at least sit in its seat for a moment, mouth still agape at only what I called the perfect gift. I didn't own a Harley but damn it I wanted to, and despite having had bikes in the past they were salvaged by me or used (my beloved one was lost to Raccoon City in '98). This though was fresh out of the dealership and I could see myself on it now flying down the roads of Red Lodge, maybe with a pair of Wesker's shades since it'd complete the fantasy. "I wanna say thank you but I need to know why?"

I looked back at his face conveying a since of calm so that he wouldn't give a smirk that displayed cockiness, and I caught my reflection in his shades. Damn did I look good on this thing. Simply he offered, "It is your birthday."

Deciding not to argue I only smiled sincerely and said, "Thank you." For a moment I contemplated hugging him, but we were not affectionate unless we were about to have sex or when we were done so I would not push it. "It's the best gift I've ever gotten." The most expensive too. Having to force myself to do so, I got off of my bike and followed Wesker inside, shutting the kitchen door behind us.

"So, how did you know I rode bikes?" Leaning against the counter I threw him a suspicious smirk, and in response he leaned back against the counter I used for food preparation. "Besides the biker ensemble," I added.

For some reason he wasn't smirking back at me, and he stared down at the kitchen floor. "Your brother told me."

My smirk disappeared, my gaze following Wesker's as I gave a small, "Oh." Of course he would've talked to him since he was his captain, yet I still wouldn't have expected him to remember things about me. It made me wonder what else Chris divulged to his supervisor during their time working together, and exactly how much he let him in. Since he didn't even know how my parents had died it was safe to say that he wasn't privy to Redfield pastimes. "I didn't know Chris talked about me."

Maybe I admitted this because I wanted for Wesker to spill that he found me interesting just from hearsay, and maybe I hoped he would ask from time to time, "Chris, how is your sister?" Maybe I wanted to be able to find a gesture from him as sweet to pander to my own ego.

Tactfully I said, "I'm sure he brought it up during a conversation about wrecks. Slowly I raised my head to see that he was looking at me again, and past his shades I could tell that he was reminiscing about his days as captain of S.T.A.R.S. I was sure there were good days there that even he missed, and despite having to put up with Chris and his shenanigans he liked being their superior.

"Miss Redfield," he began, "your brother talked about you just about every hour." Eyes wide, I stood up straight. "He worried so much that he wanted me to mentor you." I was pretty sure I knew why that never came to be: no nineteen-year-old wants to listen to a thirty-eight-year-old cop.

Swallowing hard I returned my gaze back to the worn leather boots I'd first stepped into this house wearing, thinking back to the days when Chris tried so hard to play mother, father, brother, and friend. I was so stubborn, and obviously from my current state I still was. "He was everything to me, but in the end that wasn't enough. At least from raising me I know he'll be a great parent someday, but I can't say the same for me."

His brow rose and I could tell that he was afraid that I was hinting at a future involving the pitter patter of fat, toddler feet, so I quickly decided that it was best I elaborate. "My mom died early on so I didn't have time to learn how to be one from her. I wouldn't know how to even change a diaper," I added with a sad laugh, thinking to myself how sad it was that I didn't know any of those small bits of essential knowledge about rearing a child.

Why exactly did you have to make sure the baby was burped? Was colic caused by onions or something gross smelling? Was it better to lay the baby on their stomach so they wouldn't get that little bald spot in the back of their head? Would using whisky to soothe their gums during their teething period make them drunk?

Yeah I'd kill a kid just as easily as I did my poor goldfish Mr. Sparkle Scales who I named when I received him on my third birthday and buried when I was three and ten days. Then again how smart was it to entrust full responsibility of a creature's life in the hands of one barely out of toddlerhood?

Shaking away my own doubts about my abilities as a caretaker-after all Wesker was still alive though wounded-I said, "Plus, if I have kids then Chris probably won't, and the Redfield line needs to keep going. Chris wasn't the brightest of the S.T.A.R.S. but he'd be a better parent than me because I'm selfish, and I always will be."

Yes, I had accepted my fate as a kick-ass, roamer aunt who didn't have a family of her own. I wouldn't be bitter though, instead I'd happily take on that role and dote upon any children Chris sired, illegitimate by a Peruvian woman met throughout his war on bioterrorism or by a wife. It did however make things a little worse since I was talking about not having kids to the sterile man that I was sleeping with, and it made it appear that I was actually working for a childless future already. Some nights though I did want a baby, like when I saw them babbling to their mothers happily in the stores with their fat legs kicking in excitement all because they smiled and shook their head with their lips puckered in a silly fashion.

Sometimes I wanted to breast feed, feel that bond and for a while be able to go up a couple bra sizes. I wanted my body to go through that change that made it harder to sleep anywhere like a floor, and I wanted stare down at my baby in her crib whilst thinking to myself that I had no idea such love and fondness was possible. I wanted something to depend on me more than an animal past nursing could, but the way a baby would for longer which was in every way. It was not smart to have a baby for the purpose of wanting to be loved, but I wanted something that I could love, raise, and proudly and confidently send out into the world with the knowledge that I prepared them.

Yet morbidity struck me with that optimistic thought: things could happen to good, well-prepared offspring. Wrecks, murder, rape, and so many other horrid things had plagued my mind when I first made the decision to put an end to my dreams of motherhood.

I, Claire Redfield would never have a little Susie or Johnny. Never would I hold my own plump, bundle of joy, and never would I know all of the love in the world from that one look given by something that couldn't even speak that told a mother, "I need you, and I love you."

Realizing that I had gotten lost for a moment I blinked away forming tears and said, "It's probably for the best." Wordlessly, I walked past a pensive Wesker who bit the inside of his cheek, and I pretended that I didn't notice his attempt to hold back any display of sympathy. More than likely he had thought of how he would not ever have children either, but if anything he was most likely thinking of how he couldn't and how I could but chose not to.

It was a woman thing.

March 21, 2001 Wednesday 5:00 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Lost

Finally I realized that I had been going in on the punching bag for too long, and now there was a spot that was permanently indented because of it. I didn't know how long I had been going at it, and my arms still did not ache with wear. That told me that the black, sand-filled bag had been suffering at my hands for at least twenty minutes, and that something was bothering me. This workout did not help like it was meant to, so there was only one thing that I could do: do something even more strenuous to release whatever was pent up and refusing to let go of my ribcage. It was like there was a cloud on me that refused to go away, and maybe sex was the answer but the talk of no children was an instant turnoff for me when it should have been the talk _of_ children causing that instead.

Stepping away from the bag I looked around and considered my options: the treadmill, weights (which required help), pull-ups, or sit-ups. Just when I was about to walk out in disappointment Wesker appeared, wearing a black wife-beater (go figure) and black workout pants.

"What are you doing?" I demanded with my hands on my hips.

"Testing myself."

With no idea what he meant I headed for the door behind him. "Have at it."

His good arm shot out and he took hold of my wrist, and without looking at me he said, "I require your assistance." Sighing heavily I turned to him, noticing why he was in such a rush to get back to working out: his arms were losing a bit of muscle. Usually his veins were pushing upward beneath his skin and easily visible, but now they were becoming a little difficult to see. Honestly I thought visible veins were hot.

Stepping back to look up at him I asked, "So what are we doing? Weights?"

With not a single trace of humor in his voice he said, "Sparring."

My eyebrows were drawn inward with the frown I gave. "With one arm."

"We'll see." He was being short tonight, and it was obvious that it was because he was having reservations about this. Although I wasn't too clear on why since he was trained to be a killer, and the only reason I could think of was maybe he was afraid that he'd push himself and not be able to perform to his full potential. Fucking or not men were easily embarrassed when their masculinity was at stake and there was no question on whether or not he would be mortified by losing a match he requested.

My hesitance pushed him to speak the magic words, "I'll try not to hurt you."

Oh fuck you, I thought in disbelief. With a blank face I snatched my arm away and led him to the empty side of the room, noticing his attempt to carry his injured arm with as much ease as he did the other. "Let me know if you need a break," I threw at him, pretending like I had no idea that the statement could hold another interpretation.

With a deep breath he lowered his shoulders until I witnessed him grimace with pain and then I heard the sound of his bones cracking. He needed to see a chiropractor pronto. Not sure if he meant for me to take a stance I looked around as if a demonstration would present itself before me. He could not take one though because of his arm, so I only balled my fists at my side, my body tensed and ready for an attack.

"Don't hold back," he ordered. I attempted to scoff at the cripple warning me, but before I could manage it he ran at me, his fist flying on a collision course to my face. Remembering Chris' advice on the disadvantages of ducking I dodged to the side and knocked his arm away with my own. With a hiss I shook off the pain from bone colliding with bone and I attempted to punch him in the chin, but with his wounded arm he reached up and grabbed my fist before I could land the jab. I caught him wincing, but decided not to taunt him about his injury.

I just didn't want him to hurt himself. No way was I stepping into a hospital again for his stupidity.

Deciding that it was best to display my natural talent as a grappler-something I accidentally discovered horse playing with Chris- I spun around quickly out of his grasp and surprised him by tackling him to the floor. With a loud "oomph," he fell beneath me, and rather than attempt another strike he got the upper hand and pinned me. Rather than just give him the match though I swiped at his left forearm which caused him to lose balance, and he clenched his teeth to prevent himself from showing any other signs of pain. Once I decided to show no mercy it went from being a quick sparring match to a nightmare. He sprang to his feet, and I followed his lead.

Once more I balled my hands into fists, and with all the power I'd use with a real punch I launched my right hand at his head. When my knuckles were only a few centimeters from Wesker's jaw I saw a flash of red and orange leering at me that replaced his icy gaze, and before the punch could connect, before I could brush it off as my imagination, I felt his palm hit my chest with an incredible impact. I was thrown into the air three feet, flying backwards, and a cry that must have come from within me was the only clue to me of what was going on. My body began falling downward next, and I felt the balance bar set into the wall pressing into my back as if it were all happening in slow motion. After going up, back, and down I was falling forward, being bounced off of the wooden bar like I was a human pinball.

The newly acquired pain kept me alert, and with quick thinking coupled with reflex I held out my hands to receive most of the impact and to save my face from the carpeted yet hard floor. Despite my efforts to save my body from anymore pain my hip, thigh, and legs slammed into the floor hard, eliciting another pained cry.

Frozen with his palm still outstretched and his legs spread and bent in a defensive stance, his mouth was slightly parted. Whether he was in shock or awe was unknown to me, but I had hoped that he at least felt bad for what had happened just now. It took him long enough, but he knelt down to me and helped me to my feet. "I don't know what happened." Eyes wide with bewilderment, he muttered, "My apologies."

I could feel the sting of tears coming on, but before they revealed themselves to Wesker, who now had other things to worry about, I ran from the gym ignoring my injuries. My birthday went from being great to being miserable. He was changing back into what he was before, and that meant that soon all of this would be over with. I was supposed to be glad when I could stop lying to Chris, and when I could finally hush my guilty conscience. But I knew I had another reason to be upset: there were now feelings involved.

As I locked my door behind me I asked myself how could one go from sharing their bodies and a living space with someone and suddenly walk away like it never meant a thing. How did you go back to being alone when you were so used to having somebody there? With a heavy sigh I licked my dry lips and threw myself onto my bed which hadn't held me for weeks, and despite the cliché that this was I let my emotions control my actions. I buried my face into my pillow, allowing it to muffle the sounds of me crying.

However, what did I truly expect to happen? The night I gave myself to Wesker I still knew what he had told me long ago: his virus was merely lying dormant.

March 21, 2001 Wednesday 9:57 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Happy

"All right sweetie blow out your candles."

"Can I just let them burn?" I asked, staring up into my dad's face. His smile was so big that it brought every wrinkle to attention, yet his sincerity stood out more than his age.

"I'll do it!" Our heads snapped to the left, our glares alone stopping Chris from ruining my moment. "Oh fine!" Like a scolded child he shuffled to the other side of the picnic table with his head down.

Her voice as gentle as ever, our mother cooed, "Four more months until you have your own dear. And how old will you be?"

With a scowl I said, "Almost thirty, which is too old to be stealing my birthday wishes." With a huff my older sibling threw his head down into his arms on the table, muttering incomprehensibly. Deciding to ignore his temper tantrum I looked between my parents and gushed, "I'm so happy you could make it to my party!"

My mother's smile told me that she was in a euphoric mood as she stared down at me with a warm smile. "We wouldn't miss your twenty-second birthday for the world Claire."

It had never occurred to me until now though that they had missed others. Over a decade of birthdays which my parents had not attended came back to me now, and my smile faded into a frown. When I attempted to confront them on the matter a gust of wind came through, blowing out the candles on my pink frosted cake. When I looked back up they were stone, still smiling and Chris' head was still in his arms, leaving me pretty much alone under a newly formed gray cloud that separated me from the sun's light and warmth.

Turning to look at my father I saw that he was frozen while he attempted to bend over my shoulder, beaming directly at the cake. "Dad?" I asked, staring into what was a now a statue's dull, gray color. Carefully, I slid from my side of the table and walked up to my mother who stared down at where I had been sitting before, her grin still present. "Mom?"

My lip trembled as I realized that once more I had lost my parents, and though Chris was also gone something about losing them again had just bothered me more. "Mommy?" Gingerly I reached up to touch the back of my fingers to her check, and despite my cautiousness she crumbled before me. Mouth wide open I felt hot tears streaming down my cheeks, as her new stone form was reduced to a pile of rubble at my hand, and I fell to my knees with my hands hovering over her remains as though I could put her back together but feared attempting it.

"Oh mortal." The voice was the only thing that could pull my attention away from my late family, and though I recognized it, it made me feel angry.

Not staring up, I placed my hands in my lap. "You were human once."

Chuckling to himself he stepped closer, his black boots inches away from the pile that was my mother. "That was then."

"So what are you now?" With a frown I looked up to him, watching him move to remove his shades,

"Dear heart, I am a god."

My nightmare had ended abruptly, and I couldn't understand what it meant. After his bold assertion I remember a bright, red light glowing as brightly as a fire, but I didn't know what the dream had meant. Eventually I fell into a deep sleep again with the hopes that the nightmare would be erased from my memory, but something had brought me back to consciousness. Something in my bed was moving, and whatever it was, was now on top of me.

I groaned at the intruder only to be shushed. A pair of lips was pressed gently into my neck, like I would break from the slightly bit of pressure, and instantly I knew who it was. Well, I hoped it was him; otherwise someone would be having a crotch-full of kneecap. To be sure I asked, "Wesker?"

"Yes," he answered before promptly returning to trailing kisses down my neck, and I embraced him, encouraging him to continue. Yet I still knew in my heart that this was not going to make anything better. Soon the old Albert Wesker would be back.

A/N: Pretty short, but I just couldn't force it. So sorry I just had no inspiration for this chapter and I'm trying to update more before classes start up again. I'm gonna have a lot to do this semester since I'll have to get a job and the only one I want will be cocktail waitressing at night, then I'll have a night class, my boyfriend is going to a school an hour away and I'll have to be going to see him, and I have to try to finally meet up with a good friend of mine soon. So please review even though it was short and honestly not too awesome, I just needed to update.


	9. Curre

A/N: "Curre" means "run" as in "Curre, Claire!" which is "Run Claire!" And let me be honest, while writing part of this I'm semi-drunk. No longer upset since I talked to my friend, but I've been drinking…

Lady Snowstorm: Thank you!

Olivia-B52007: Glad my story helped. And sorry but he has to become old Wesker again. Means for more choices for Claire.

NinMetro: Thank you so much.

XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX: Yay I love hearing that! Yes the Wesker we know and love has to return. Less worries equals less feelings but no he won't become heartless. And I'm not sure about his eyes. The blue eyes were a slip-up in Darkside but his red and orange ones… I'm not sure how I'll go about it just yet. Ok never mind I figured out what I needed to do in a certain part.

Naoko Suki: Well, it's only fondness, not love! And thanks it's just as the days go by the closer these things get I worry more and more. June and July took forever and now August is flying by and I don't want it to. I swear if I could win the lottery I would do all online classes. All I'd do is school, work, visit my love and friend, and write of course.

Elevenzombiezz: Thanks and thank you for adding the story to your list.

PurgatoryNymphe: I'm on cloud nine right now :) I'm glad you liked the last chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or Playboy but I own the OCs and this fic.

Optio

Chapter 9: Curre

April 3, 2001 Tuesday 4:13 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

Status: Fine

Grocery shopping wasn't exactly a fun task, yet it had to be done, and I preferred to go alone since it gave me time by myself which sometimes sadly led to me having "thoughts." The yellow and purple bruise on my back had faded successfully, and the only thing reminding me of the sparring accident was my own mind that had stored the situation away as a long term memory. As for the man responsible for my wound, his had fully healed as well, something that was causing me to distance myself from him (he shouldn't have healed so quickly). Rather than ignore his gift to me I was riding my bike through town daily instead of sticking around the house and waiting until we both were refreshed enough from our usual fuck-fest to begin another. Yet Wesker did not push the matter, instead he preoccupied himself with whatever he had secreted away in the locked rooms of the house, and I had hypothesized that whatever it was had to do with his virus.

He was tracking his progress no doubt, anxiously awaiting the day that he became all that he was before he came to me for help, and I wondered if his cold attitude would return as well. However, it was unfair that I was not putting any faith into him whatsoever, I mean it's not like he hadn't tried to reassure me, but either I was cooking, working out, or reading when he showed up. I even took to sleeping in my own room once more. Since the accident we'd probably done the "mommy-daddy hug" twice and I wasn't lying when I confided in Gwen over a girl-lunch that though I was pushing him away I yearned for the sex. I had to make up a reason for the sex deprivation though, and my excuse was that he had said something rude about my brother and never apologized for it. Chris actually calling on the night of my birthday-i.e. my revelation night- also had a lot to do with my decision to begin saying "no" to Wesker.

Well, not so much as saying no but more of me acting oblivious when he did little things that said that he was up for sex.

With a heavy sigh I crossed eggs off of the crumpled up list and headed to the only open lane, and I wondered if Stephanie was the only steady employee they had. After she silently scanned my items she gave the smallest smile and handed me the black card.

"Hey Sara," she began, almost making me jump into the air several feet at the sound of my alias rolling off of her tongue, "I wanted to talk to you about something later so you mind if I stop by?"

With no intention of coming off as rude, I blinked my wide eyes and shook my head slightly, "Uh no, you can come through."

"Okay, I get off at 7:30?"

Still blinking I said, "I'll be home."

After declining help from the bagboy I stuffed the groceries into the trunk of the Trailblazer and drove home with the strangest look of bewilderment on my face. Once I was home Wesker helped me store away everything and he managed to corner me, pinning me between the counter and his solid body which he got to work on as soon as the pain in his arm was gone. No words passed between us as I stared up at him through half lidded eyes, and I felt his fingers, light as a feather pass over the skin of my arms, a small action that sent chills throughout me. My will broke as I tilted my head back and offered him my lips, this simple form of submission telling him what my heart had been arguing about with my brain: I missed him.

Our kisses were feathery and gentle as neither of us worked to take control, but when he began to undress me he ripped open my shirt, tearing a few of the buttons free, and I heard them scatter over the floor around us. He took me roughly, laying my body on the cold counter that caused goose bumps to rise over my skin, and I recall yelling in what was a mix of pain and pleasure. He never stopped, knowing that I wanted every thrust harder, every grope rougher, and for his grip on the hair just at my scalp to become stronger. We'd gasped quickly, in an almost animalistic fashion together as he pumped in and out of me with a pained look on his face, almost like he was forcing himself to hold back. Somehow I pushed through that uncomfortable feeling of him brushing against my g-spot, my legs beginning to shake violently once my body began perceiving it as pleasurable, and a cry that was not permitted broke the silence of the house and I grasped at his black shirt to keep myself from pulling my own hair or digging my nails into the palms of my hands until I drew blood.

More tremors made their way down my legs as I felt him give those few final thrusts that would bring him to his release, and surprisingly he followed my lead and gave a groan of his own.

For some reason my fucking legs would not stop shaking.

Shallow breaths filling the air around us, he pulled out, only to slowly reinsert himself yet again for good measure. At the sight of my restless legs he smirked, proud of what he had managed to push my body to: my very first vaginal orgasm. Before he could speak to mock me or before he could send me another smirk I pulled him down by his neck to fervently kiss his lips, and when we finally parted I released a deep sigh that doubled as a compliment towards him. Since my shirt was ruined I removed it, going to sweep up all of its former buttons while the blond held himself up against the counter. Apparently we had both pushed our bodies beyond the usual limits; it was different than the other times in a sense because we actually clung to one another and held on for dear life.

Our muscles endured resistance and I realized that I wanted another session like that in the future, although it would not be as good if it were planned.

Speaking of plans, I needed to warn Wesker that we would soon have company, and if I had half a brain I'd know he'd want to clear out before Stephanie showed up. After tossing out my ripped garment I approached him calmly as he sat watching the news, not bothering to take a seat next to him. "Stephanie wants to come by and speak to me soon."

Absent mindedly he asked, "About what?"

"I'm not sure but she was acting… nice about whatever it was."

His tone belonged to a statement. "I should leave." Without bothering to ask where he'd go I let him get to his feet after turning off the television and walk to get his coat. Wherever he chose to go I was sure it was safe. And hell, knowing Wesker it may have been someplace on this land that he kept well hidden. My thoughts were interrupted when he cupped my cheek to deliver a kiss upon my lips that I barely felt. For a moment he lingered, and then he quickly swept off to the kitchen door, leaving me standing there with butterflies' wings beating around in the pit of my stomach.

I did not reject that tickling sensation, but I instead relished the moment and the feelings he could stir within me. The blame for this was the fact that soon he would revert to "The Almighty Wesker," but knowing that I had melted his heart even for a few months was enough to get me by, and I felt like I was the one with the accomplishment under my belt. Still, I hated that I felt for him, and it made it even worse that I would never love him. Whatever we were feeling though, I honestly didn't want for it to stop because it was exciting, but this supported my theory that I was in it for the sense of danger.

Soon I heard Stephanie pull up in the driveway, her car crushing the gravel even more beneath its tires, and I let her in not knowing whether or not to offer her a drink.

"It's okay," she assured me, taking a seat on the leather couch, and in an attempt to be polite since she had displayed no hostility I sat on the other end. She had taken the time to change before she came over, now her work uniform had been exchanged for thigh-high, black leather boots with six-inch heels, black jeans, and a black, leather biker jacket. I would give her this, she looked great today, and I wished I could have that outfit.

Trying to stop staring at her I asked, "So what did you want to talk about?"

"I don't want Jeffrey," she blurted, quickly scooting towards me, and both her declaration and her action made me flinch with surprise.

"What?" Blinking, I tried to press my body further into the leather of the couch.

Rolling her eyes she leaned forward and grabbed my face, forcing my lips to meet hers, and I was too shocked to stop her for a good five seconds. When I pushed her off of me she stared down at the rug beneath the couch and gave a sad sigh.

"Do you think we always lived in 'rural' Red Lodge? City life and my dad's not-so-frigid whore that was a relief from my mother wasn't enough for this isolation. When I was twelve I had my first experience with a girl. Needless to say my mother wasn't too happy about me joining a minority group. So we moved to red state Montana. I just always got a vibe from you, even though you're here with your fiancé."

_Me gay?_

Despite the fact that she couldn't be more wrong I let her spill her guts and reveal all that she had been instructed to do and why. Her mother wanted her to marry a rich man with as much money as they had, and she believed her daughter's sexual orientation to be no more than a phase that had a solution: moving her away from the influential delinquent that brought this about. She told me she had to be a bitch to me to hide the fact that she would have preferred me over Jeffrey, and that she had been talking with her father about coming clean to me for a while. As a matter of fact he was supposed to be the one to tell me about all of this, but Stephanie chose to be the one to tell me everything and I gained some respect for her.

I don't know how long we talked, or how she thought I could help her out with her dilemma living a closeted life since that was her only choice. All I could tell her was to be true to herself, and if that left her without the family fortune then think of what was more important: money or happiness?

When she left I realized that I had forgot to get more body wash from the store so with a groan I went back out to the car and back into town. Since they were not in stock of my usual I considered my options of Dial or Dove, and I felt someone walking by swiftly behind me. Upon turning around I saw no one, but whoever it was, was now making a sharp turn to their right. Blinking, I decided to shrug it off as nothing seeing as so far we hadn't been in any danger in Red Lodge.

Well the shooting incident was an accident, and though I had grabbed hold of the bottle I'd chosen I did not lift the soap from its place on the shelf. I had killed a man. Sure when I infiltrated the Paris facility a few lives had been lost in the explosion but it was different somehow this time. Maybe because I knew the secret he took to his grave and the one that his friend would more than likely take with him as well.

Before someone caught me staring off into space I snatched the bottle from the shelf and made my way to the candy aisle before I checked out. It always felt odd to enter a store and leave with one item. I grabbed a Kitt Katt bar and saw the dark figure pass by my current aisle, not even looking in my direction. All I knew was he was a white male with a baseball cap pulled far down his brow and his hands were deep in the pocket in the front of his hoodie. The sound his sneakers made told me that he had stepped into a sticky substance, and I used the noise to track him to the aisle ahead of me.

Bags of Funyons blocked my view, so I quietly pushed them to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. His back was turned while he quickly attached a black tube to something, and when he moved to turn around I recognized it as a gun and silencer. His brown eyes met with mine, both of us frozen in place for different reasons, but his trance was broken first as he lifted the barrel up to the space between the shelves and I finally made my legs listen to my brain.

_RUN!_

I heard something akin to a whistle, and I knew it was a bullet. Behind me a woman screamed bloody murder, making me think someone had been shot, but I couldn't stop if someone was after me. I fished out the keys to the car and got in without checking to see if anything was coming and backed out of the parking space. With one last glance up at the windows I glanced into the store to see employees and shoppers running to the aid of someone, most likely to person who took the bullet meant for me. I peeled out of the parking lot, not going home but instead I drove through nearby towns, afraid that I would lead the assassin back to Wesker who was more than likely the true target.

At about nine thirty I pulled into the driveway, entering through the front out of paranoia, ready to inform Wesker of the attempt on my life, that is if he had returned home. "Hello?" I called into the dark den, fumbling around for the light switch, and I braced myself for the worst. Nothing was there, and there was no sign of a struggle or a break-in. Swiftly I climbed the stairs and made my way down the hallway, and Wesker's door creaked open, a white arm whipped out and pulled me in.

Before I could scream I felt a large hand cover my mouth, and heard a man hiss, "Shh!" His free hand reached out to quietly close and lock the door, and strange as it sounds I could see that it belonged to Wesker from the light in the hallway (well it couldn't be too strange since I had been sleeping with him so I should have known his body parts very well). I didn't get to look at his face, he held my back to his chest and I felt him breathing in and out slowly. I had no idea what was going on but I felt like melting into his arms at this moment because even if there was an eight foot tall Cyclops bumbling around the house it just felt romantic.

Here I was again fantasizing about romance while in the arms of a Tyrant.

"Someone is in the house," he said in a low voice, and I felt it rumble in his chest.

Pulling out of his hold I began listening, trying as hard as I could to pick up the slightest sound. The room was dark but I turned in his direction and stood on the tips of my toes to whisper in his ear, "Is it him?"

"No… a mercenary." I still heard nothing, yet the silence in the house was forced, like someone was trying to hide themselves from detection to lure out their target. "I believe they're in your room now. Do you have your bike keys?"

My voice barely came out as I whispered," Yes."

Without hesitation he commanded," Run down the hall as fast as you can and don't worry about noise. Hurry to the kitchen, get on your bike, and go."

"Where?" I hissed, almost forgetting that we were being hunted right now.

"Home."

I would not allow that word to sink in as I searched for any excuse to stay with him. "My job is to protect you, not the other way around." His head was apparently in the other direction, the flash of red being the proof that I needed to know why he had no fear for himself right now. Stifling a yell of surprise I reached for his cheek, but snatched my hand back. This was too much to take in right now, and I was once more afraid of him. "When?"

"I will explain later now go." I knew there was only so long someone would search my room, the closet space wasn't _that_ huge. Without wishing Wesker luck I decided to trust him and bolted from the room without really looking where I was going. Just as I passed up my bedroom in the periphery of my vision I saw the door fly inward, but I couldn't stop.

Halfway down the stairs I heard what sounded like someone hitting the wall, and I finally heard a voice. "Upstairs!"

_There are more?_

I heard beating at the front door, like someone was trying to force their way in, but I kept for the kitchen, slipping a few times on the wood in the den. The back door had been unlocked but I thought nothing of it, and the light on the house provided me with the illumination I needed to place my key in my motorcycle. Never had I found a key that fucking fast in my life, especially without thinking, but I didn't hesitate when I heard gunshots. I hurriedly put my helmet on and reminded myself that I had a turn to get around so I was fine with starting slow, but as soon as I saw that straight, gravel driveway I was sure everyone inside the house heard me escaping. The speed limit was the last thing on my mind at this point, but Wesker was all I could think of as I got onto the interstate, Denver-bound once more.

_He's back to his old self, he doesn't need you anymore. So don't expect an explanation. Kiss your luxuries and that fucking hodunk-podunk town goodbye forever Miss Ivanov._

Knowing it was true all I could think to myself was, I know.

April 4, 2001 Wednesday 9:44 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Worried

This time I didn't have a red suitcase. My fourth cup of coffee waited on the coffee table next to the phone, and I swear every light was on in my apartment even though the sun was shining in from behind the curtains. Finally I was in Denver, but not under much better terms than the last time because this time I had no idea if Wesker was alive. The memory of those eyes leaving fiery trails in the air flashed before my eyes as though it was happening again, and I tried to tell myself that I should have known this would happen. The countdown happened the night of the sparring accident, yet I tried to pretend that it would take more time. No, it happened the night of the shooting…

_Think back recently. The way he fucked you? He knew._

Trying to ignore the voice I forced myself to take a sip of the still-hot coffee and it singed my whole tongue but for some reason I felt too embarrassed to curse or hiss at the pain. I think I was afraid of that voice making fun of me even though it was my own.

The slightest tapping noise interrupted the quiet of my little apartment, and I slowly stood up from the couch to make my way across the room. When I looked through the peephole I let out an exhale that took with it all of my anxiety, and without hesitation I removed the chain and unlocked the door. Rather than pulling the door open I only opened it a bit to peek my head out and let him know it was me. Wesker glanced in both directions of the hall, hinting that he wished to enter, and without another moment to spare I stepped aside and allowed him in. He chose to lock the door himself, and while his back was to me I tried to figure out whether to smile or not, but there was something that said I shouldn't smile.

Something was telling me to prepare for disappointment.

Excitement had stolen my breath away, or better yet it may have been the anxiety that caused me to sweat and my head to begin spinning. "Are all right?" I breathed, refusing to close the gap between us because I knew what he was once more.

_Was he really ever anything but?_

Ignoring my question he said, "I will send you your things, all clothes acquired during your stay and the car." What I secretly feared was happening but he just kept talking. "The bike was a gift of course, shred the card you have now, you will receive a new one in the mail issued to you; it is connected to a private account."

My brow furrowed, my mouth opened with no words leaving, and I shook my head slightly. "What?"

His body was stiff, his back completely straight, chest out proudly, and he held his hands behind his back. There was no longer a trace of humanity in his gaze, no sign of longing for my touch, and he looked like he was disgusted at being in my humble home. "You will be set up for life and can choose whether to continue your college career or start new somewhere. I have not forgotten my part of the bargain, but until I am able to return the favor I hope this show of gratitude will do. It is my way of thanking you."

Now that I finally had time to talk I gave a single, sad laugh, holding my arms out at my side. "So that's it? You disappear now? Again?"

In response he raised a blonde eyebrow, but his stance remained the same. "Elaborate." The one-word command stung so badly that I almost winced, yet like a cold bucket of water it woke me up from whatever daze Red Lodge had me in.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat I shook my head quickly to substitute for my broken voice that couldn't make out the word, "nothing." Shakily I whispered, "Hard to believe that we lived together without killing each other." After much thought I decided to say, "This'll be the last we'll see of each other I guess." I covered the question in my voice so well that even I didn't hear it, yet since he was so good at reading people I had a feeling he would pick up on it.

_You want him to, but if you were the same, smart Claire Redfield, you'd be glad if he didn't._

His jaw taught, he answered professionally, "That is correct. You are in no danger. Those who saw you have been dispatched of, and they were of no relation to the enemy I was hiding from. It was a less competent opponent who chose to capitalize on the situation. Somehow he caught wind of my condition, and good fortune just so happened to be on our side."

"When did you really go back to being…" I trailed off knowing that normal was far from accurate, but he knew what I meant.

Unwavering, he quickly supplied me with an answer. "The morning after the sparring accident when you went out riding. For some reason however, my side effects did not present themselves until tonight."

I didn't need a degree in Biology to know what side effects he referred to.

_He could have killed you last time… now you know why he looked like he was holding back._

Something was on the tip of his tongue I could tell, but he bit it back. He had not completely reverted back to being a monster yet, but his strength and pride were back full force. "I wish you well Miss Redfield."

That familiar feeling inside my head, the stinging in my nasal passage all came back; it was my warning that I would be crying soon. "Thank you," I breathed to mask my disappointment and impending episode of sobbing.

With the nod of a gentleman he turned to leave, not pausing in his actions as he exited my apartment for the final time. Just as quickly as he had come on New Year's and made the proposal to me, he had returned and left again. Once I was sure that he was down the hall I gave in to the weight tugging at my knees and I fell to the floor with my head hanging. Tears blurred my vision and I fought the queasiness in the pit of my stomach best as I could but I soon tasted vomit in my mouth that I had no choice but to force back down.

I was blinded by both my tears and my newly acquired shame that accounted for the real reason that I was distressed: I had fucked Albert Wesker. Night after night I had climbed into bed willingly with him and let him do things to me that I wouldn't even let silly, harmless Byron do. A murderer's hands and roamed my body, a treasonous snake that traded his humanity for the eyes of that very serpent had known me and I had let him. He walked into this house and told me goodbye forever, and to make it worse he got a nice little laugh out of it all.

With the knowledge that he was a monster again he took me, possibly getting some sort of sick pleasure out of fucking me while his virus forced every ounce of human blood out of his veins. My nausea returned as I patted at the wood for something, maybe an answer as to why I let him in. He wasn't human and he had had me, he came in me, releasing his infected seed into my human womb.

"Oh, God," I sobbed, feeling the sick make its way back up my throat and this time I just let it all go right there on my living room floor. I dry heaved until my stomach twisted into knots and cramped, causing me an agony that was unheard of until now, and it forced me to ignore the burning in my throat. With no more energy left I staggered to the bathroom, my body clumsily hitting the wall, but my trip was cut short as every last bit of the strength I had left my legs. Blackness engulfed me against my will, saving me from the pain of my fall.

Date Unknown, Day Unknown, Time Unknown

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Caution

Though my eyes were closed I had regained consciousness, a feeling that I hated experiencing because it made me feel disoriented. The memory of why I was on the floor flooded back to me, making me wish that I could sleep longer, but once the jackhammer in my skull went to work I remembered that losing consciousness was nowhere near as pleasant as simply drifting off into sleep. My arms were tired, yet I soldiered on and lifted my torso up from the floor and managed to stand on wobbly legs. No light attempted to infiltrate the windows; it was now night, and I stared down at the mess I had made earlier in my disgust with my own self. Without thinking about much of anything I cleaned it up, going the extra mile by squeezing out floor cleaner onto every inch of the wooden floor and mopping it up.

I just wanted to be occupied.

So I scrubbed, dusted, and paid the utmost attention to every detail in my temporarily abandoned home.

"Home."

Red Lodge had become home. What about Gwen, the Luomas, and the rest of the town? Without much thought to it I ran to my phone and dialed Gwen's number, waiting for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" The voice was sleepy, but it belonged to her.

For a moment I was silent, my breathing shallow as I realized that I didn't know what I should even say to her if she asked for an explanation. "Gwen?" My voice sounded unused, but it was still possible to tell it was mine.

"Sara?" I heard movement in the background as I identified excitement in her voice. "Why didn't you tell anyone you two were relocating?" My mouth was open with no sound coming out as I tried to think of what to say. "I mean rushing off to Europe sounds romantic and all but a heads up would have been nice."

Wesker had disconnected me from Red Lodge, and Gwen proved this as she continued to repeat all she had been told by him. Our companies were moving, we sold a few, and now that his father was dying it was imperative that we marry as soon as possible. Most of the time I cried as I listened to how we abandoned our home over night, but some light managed to shine through when she told me, "Jeffrey did let us know that we were the best friends you two had had though, and Sara, that means a lot to me."

After she vowed to keep in touch we both hung up, except when I put the phone down I think I was the only one crying. I'd left behind my real life and had got caught up in Sara Ivanov though my pessimism had supposedly served as a constant reminder that I would be going back home soon. It all happened so fast.

_So you wanted the attempt on your life to feel like it would last a lifetime? You got in, got out just like he did so why are you bitching exactly? Too fast? After three fucking days you were crying about going home but now you miss it?_

Staring down at the phone I silently agreed with what could have only been my conscience.

_So go somewhere. Do something, better yet someone. Most likely Wesker is…_

Despite wanting to deny this I knew it was the truth: I wasn't special.

April 16, 2001 Monday 10:36 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Numb

Wesker had kept every promise he made to me: he sent every piece of clothing from my dresser and closet in Red Lodge, he sent me the Trailblazer, he sent me another black card with what were possibly unlimited funds, and most importantly I had not seen or heard from him. There was nothing I could do about this though because he had made up his mind. So had I.

I was done sulking alone, and since Byron was probably too afraid to ask me anywhere I heard that he was throwing a party through some of his fellow frat brothers. I decided to dress provocatively since it would be my first college party in months, and I lingered in the mirror at the sight of my hair. It was straight I understood that but the length alarmed me. Noticing that it reached the bottom of my breasts in front I searched through my medicine cabinet until I found my razor, clicking it on to give myself a quick trim, and while I was at it I decided to cut my bangs as well though I hated waiting for them to grow until they had a natural look.

A good two inches was gone from my hair now, and with a frown I washed it down the sink. Weird how it wasn't that long a few days ago… I adjusted the tight, white tee I wore and noticed that I filled out the top a little more. PMS, I thought to myself.

About a half hour later I was walking into Byron's parents' mansion, my body tense as I felt the vibrations from the bass of the music reverberating all around me. College students flooded in and out of the place, not one without a red, plastic cup in their hands. A few people I knew waved at me happily but refused to step away from their current conversations but it didn't make me feel completely alone since I was used to isolation. As usual Byron was nowhere to be seen in his own house so I made my way to the backyard, avoiding being splashed by pool water as best as I could all to the reach the bar which was manned by a professional bartender and not some moron just slinging together "cocktails." Professional as he was though he couldn't help staring at the girl in front of me who was topless without any cares, and she didn't even think that maybe the creep with the camera across the pool would peddle the video of "babes."

Rather than continue to act sour I decided to try and appreciate that it was seventy-three degrees tonight, knowing that next week mother nature wouldn't be too gracious to the young girls who had rushed out and bought new bikinis in hopes of crashing a frat party.

"SCHOOL'S OUT FUCK YEAH!" The yell was followed by a loud splash, so I didn't even bother to look, but the half-naked girl turned around, drink in hand as she gave me a view of a not so impressive rack. The bottle blonde avoided my eyes and she sauntered off.

"Four shots of vodka," I ordered, waiting patiently as he took his time filling the shot glasses for me.

Just as he finished filling the last one he frowned at me and said, "Haven't seen you in a while." It took some time but I realized that he was the very same bartender that mixed drinks at every one of Byron's parties and for a few other frat boys. "You look different. Happy."

"Okay…" With no idea what he meant I took back my shots and waved to him before beginning my walk back into the house. By the time I got upstairs I was sure that the alcohol would be kicking in so I could begin enjoying the party, and I was right. Not sure if I was going to be sick I stumbled into the bathroom in the right wing of the house, interrupting a primping Valerie Swan. "Sorry."

My muttered apology was unneeded and before I could leave she said quickly, "That's all right." Unsure of what to do I stepped into the room, my sneakers silent against the tiled floor. "Shut the door." At her request I ended up slamming it, but she could see that I was drunk so she forgave my clumsy action. "It's so fucking loud downstairs. Better up here." Her gaze returned to the mirror as she coated her lashes with some expensive looking mascara, and she further made up her eyes with some black liner.

Valerie wasn't a slut per se, but she was extremely different from the girls we went to school with. Any and every girl nowadays tried out for Playboy, but she was a certified Bunny that had appeared on the front covers of a few magazines and her spreads were infamous around here. What made her so special was that she was accessible, or at least that's what a few guys thought until they found out she was a lesbian. This reminded me of Stephanie, but she was too ashamed of the way she was to openly tell others.

Nervously I glanced around here and there, trying not to stare as the brunette applied a fresh layer of gloss to her lips. Valerie was not the typical blonde bombshell you would expect if you heard of her from someone; she opted for her natural color over bleaching, and she had no need to tan which was something she thanked her mother for since she had been a native of Greece. Her tits were obviously fake, and everyone knew her cup size: 34 DD and this caused the drooling, horny college boys much grief since they knew they would only be able to see them in a magazine. She was about the same height as me, but her body was curvier than my own, which she proudly showed off in a white and black corset and skin-tight jeans.

Smirking at her own reflection she gave a chuckle, "I thought you could hold your liquor Claire."

So did I, I thought to myself, trudging over to take a seat on the closed toilet. It wasn't like I wanted her company; I just didn't want to be alone while I pondered over why I was suddenly a light-weight. "What's it like to pose naked?" I blurted out, but my fear of a nasty retort was unneeded since she only let her smirk grow wider.

Finally, she turned to look at me instead of using the mirror as a way to make eye-contact. "Maybe you should find out. You have a body for it. Plus, you're kind of a redhead and guys eat that shit up." My silence caused her to scoff. "Don't worry. The big, scary lesbian isn't hitting on you."

A part of me wanted her to be though. I wanted to try it, the thought of being with a girl had my hairs standing on end. Letting out a deep breath I stood slowly, trying my hardest not to embarrass myself by falling forward, and I drowsily held myself up against the wall. I must have been smirking but I couldn't tell now that my lips had gone numb, but maybe I did because Valerie had a half grin on her face as she took my hand into her own.

Gracefully, she led me to one of the guest bedrooms that always stayed free of party goers due to Byron's few strict house rules, but sometimes he'd make an exception. I guess she was on that short list of privileged guests.

It took me awhile to hold myself up successfully on the overly-soft bed that had one too many pillows piled near the top. The brunette's long fingers stroked my face as she whispered something in what I assumed to be Greek, and I lifted my head. She continued to whisper to me softly, grinning at me in my inebriated state, and when she fell silent her lips lingered over mine. Her breath was cool against my lips, leaving her lightly, and she ran her tongue over her own before she lowered her head further.

Her gloss was sticky; smearing over my mouth as she hungrily kissed me, pushing me back so that she was straddling me. With a moan she began grinding her hips into mine slowly and her lips wandered down to my throat. Here and there she nibbled playfully, sometimes lightly suckling at the skin as I pulled down her corset to play with her breasts. I had wondered what fake ones felt like, something I was ashamed of ever admitting before.

In silence we stripped, however I didn't know if we would actually do anything, and to my knowledge we couldn't. Valerie trailed kisses down my neck, the valley between my breasts, and she was soon running her tongue down my stomach, staring up from her clear, green eyes.

The courage alcohol gave you.

She hovered over me for a while, kneading her hands into my breasts while she teasingly flicked her tongue. "Welcome to the club." The amount of vodka in my system made me numb to much of her actions, but I moaned because it was expected of me, and I didn't want to look like an idiot by seeming bored by something that I wanted. Glancing down between my legs I thought I saw a blond head, but my eyes were only playing tricks on me.

Someone else was in the room though, and they were getting a mouthful from Valerie. Some stoner had tried to feel her up, yet he failed miserably and asked if he could at least watch.

"Ask her." The pause in activity had me feeling drowsier than before, so before I could slip off into a deep sleep I sat up and pulled the brunette back down to me for a kiss, tasting myself on her lips. My liquid courage was not gone yet, and it gave me the nerve I needed to attempt to emulate what she had done to me. "First-timers are always the best," she moaned, giggling when I nipped at her thigh.

I had no prior experience in eating out, yet I seemed to be doing an adequate enough job to make her squirm. The familiar scent of rubber wafted throughout the room, and something weighed down the edge of the bed. Honestly, I was too gone to react, and too depressed with myself to even care. I'd given myself to Albert Wesker in this very same position before, and he was a man who turned out to care nothing for me, so what was one more?

The level of intoxication I had reached kept me from registering much of anything, so his thrusts felt like nothing to me. Ignoring him I continued to focus on Valerie, constantly trying to push Wesker's sneer out of my mind, but he kept returning to mock me and what I was lowering myself to do. I had let him corrupt me, but just because he so willingly made himself my first it did not mean that he had to be my last.

_You will never forgive yourself for this._

As Valerie released one final squeal if bliss, I once more agreed with my conscience, but what could I do at this point. Like I had merely been a receptacle for him, the stranger gave a "Woo!" leaving without a word to either of us. Still, I felt nothing internal or external, and the girl that lay before me seemed to notice this.

Rather than collect her things to leave me here, she pulled me to her chest and stroked my hair. "A broken heart heals, but this is not the way."

Teary-eyed, I lifted my head, "Then why did you let me?"

She shook her head. "Because you only can learn the hard way." I swallowed hard, turning my gaze to a vase filled with flowers on the dresser against the wall. I had run from my problems and emotions, only to end up facing them regardless of my efforts, and now I would have to lie in the bed that I made for myself.

A/N: Bye, bye Red Lodge. If y'all want me to update quicker review, review. Classes start on the 22nd so I have a limited time. I may be able to pump out the next chapter and with enough kind words or whatever you choose to say I may even get out THE BIG EVENT CHAPTER! MAYBE! It may be too long to come that quickly though. But the last part in this chapter can be considered somewhat dark I guess and I wrote it that way because Claire has a reason to be upset. She just let it get a little too far and for one night she let go. Not trying to make everything sex related but when I think of a person spiraling downward that's definitely gonna play a huge part, and it's also not how Claire was which kinda makes her depression more believable. It's rated M for a reason. And I think her being depressed kind of matches what a girl goes through when her first just leaves. There's that "I'll sleep with most guys" period. Not true for all girls but most, and a lot just deny going through it. Now she isn't turning hoe but there had to be a point where she slipped up. I hope this chapter wasn't bad because I feel like I could have done better. But there are hints to the future that I placed, muahahaha!


	10. Gravatus

A/N: "Gravatus" is one of the many words for "sick" in Latin. I'm doing this because I love y'all. I just have a slight headache from exhaustion, and when I got home I hit the couch for a nap. But right now I'm jacked up on S'mores. Yum. Anyhow, Chris visits Claire! Also this will be the shortest chapter yet so looks like I will get to finish up "Vita" sooner than I thought.

EchoCIDE: It happened to me as well but not to the extent that it happened to Claire. The men had to be guys I knew for a year and 6 months was the minimum. I had known one bf for four years. Some of what Claire goes through or does were experiences I've had, but since I kind of let the character tell me what they want to do she handles it a lot worse than I would. I'm trying to put her through what the average young woman finding herself goes through. I'm sorry to you and every other female that had to go through it though because it's hard for even the strongest of us. No amount of preparation helps. And you're not whack, it's important to sympathize with the characters :)

Lady Snowstorm: Thank you! Poor Claire has gotten her feelings hurt :(

skidney: Thanks. Poor Claire for this chapter too :(

Olivia-B52007: Thank you and don't worry, he'll be back soon enough.

Naoko Suki: Claire has some hard times ahead of her, but she's a Redfield ;)

Niki: Yay you picked up on it! And after reading further, no I'm not tricking you!

Mrs. Albert Wesker: Thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or Walgreen's, just the fic.

Optio

Chapter 10: Gravatus

April 17, 2001 Tuesday 9:45 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Sick

After a long date with the toilet bowl the next morning Valerie said goodbye to me, asking me several times if I was going to be okay, and then I got the worst scolding from Byron. The asshole that tried to give it to me up mine had a total bitch fit when the stoner named Charlie went around spreading the word that he "totally intruded on some lesbian action." When he was done blowing smoke from his ears I left to go home, only to continue puking up my guts, but I couldn't understand why I was so sick since I usually had no hangover. Breathing deeply, I forced myself down into the tub of hot water I had drawn, and I hadn't felt this good since I had soaked in my "special" tub in…

_The sooner you shut the fuck up about Red Lodge, the sooner you can forget._

Slipping down further into the water, I let it wet the hair just at the back of my head, and the heat of the water seemed to massage my aching muscles and joints. For a while I allowed my body to soak, until I noticed that my fingers were now mimicking the texture of raisins. Sighing heavily I lifted my body from the water and toweled myself off, finding that I needed to be extra gentle when dealing with my genitals since I was too drunk to tell Charlie to back the fuck off. When I was completely dry I released my hair from the ponytail holder and brushed out most of the tangles, but I stopped when I noticed something.

Grabbing a section of my hair I pulled it down straight, finding that it reached the bottom of my unbound breast. "What the fuck?" I could have sworn that I had just cut my hair last night, then again I was so upset that maybe I didn't and thought that I did. So I pulled out my razor to repeat the process that I apparently didn't go through last night, and when I finished I noticed the change in texture to my hair. There was a piece that had been wet and though my hair was slightly wavy when wet, this piece was waved a bit more than usual.

As a college student I had learned that these changes occurred at about twenty-two, but I had just hit that marker. Were the physical impairments going to come next week or something? Huffing to myself I went to get dressed, deciding on a pair of jogging pants and a racer-back tank. Usually I put on my bra last, today being no different, but today I really wished I could kick my impending period's ass because my breasts were spilling over the top of the brassiere. They had swollen significantly, becoming extremely tender to the touch, but what I was both grateful for and weirded out by was the fact that I wasn't bloated at all.

Finding that there was no way my bra would fit I threw it back into the dresser, finding that I could go without one as long as I wore a hoodie; they bounced and jiggled too much for me to trust just a tee. I gave a loud groan when I heard a "cop knock" at my door, stomping the whole way there, but Mr. Sidorov remained silent for some reason and I couldn't be more confused. Without looking through the peephole I flung the door open, and a smile instantly broke out on my face once I took in the brunet professionally referred to as Agent Kennedy. My voice was too tired to allow a squeal, and I didn't have the energy to crush him with a hug but I did let him in right away.

Immediately I rushed to my fully and recently stocked 'fridge, maybe hoping to impress him with my selection. Usually toast served as Hors d'oeuvres in my place, but he declined everything I offered except a beer. Eying him as I neared him with his bottle I said, "Usually you eat like a horse, what's up?"

An accomplished smile spread across his face, "Well, I just so happen to be dating the girl across from you who loves to cook." I couldn't lie, I was extremely impressed that he managed to snag Maritza, and though I really didn't know her I could say that she was definitely on a different level than Leon. I only knew him as awkward and a little goofy, but the pairing was only likely since they both were good looking people.

Working as a Government agent had hardened Leon's body quickly and nicely, yet something inside of me would not let me appreciate any of it. I could give a rat's ass about Maritza; it was someone else that made me shy away from complimenting another man.

Just when I tried to keep myself from thinking about him Leon asked," So what was up with you and that road trip shit?"

For a moment I considered getting myself a beer, but just looking at his made me feel nauseous so I decided against it. "We're done." My simple answer made him nod his head, telling me to go on but I couldn't.

"What happened with your boyfriend?" He nearly slung beer everywhere when he raised his hands in exasperation.

Blankly, I looked down at my bare feet and said clearly, "We broke up." His expression said that he felt bad for asking, but maybe I needed someone to ask about it. As long as that someone wasn't Chris that is; he'd probably go on a rampage until he found out who it was, and then he'd really go on a rampage when he found out it was…

___Yeah, don't even think the name._

Figuring that he'd done enough damage by asking he decided to prod a little more to get a better understanding of it all. "What happened?"

With a strong composure I turned my neck to stare at him with a sad smile, and though it was not one of happiness Goddammit a smile was there. "I thought I changed him," I offered, shrugging at my own naïveté, trying to look like I wasn't ashamed, but once I remembered how I was suckered in it hit me like five tons of bricks. "He was good for a while, but it was an act. And I came home, and we ended it." So ended my sad tale of how my heart was crumbled up like an old candy wrapper, and not one someone was kind enough to throw in the trash bin on the sidewalk, more like one that missed the mouth of it and fell back to the ground for everyone to stomp over it.

_Calm down. Theatrical today aren't we?_

Saddened for me, Leon turned his head in my direction, but could not look me in the eye. "Did you sleep with him?" The silence I allowed to settle served as his answer, his reaction being to pull me to his chest while he hugged me, and we sat there for a while without any words between us. Then I realized that this was what I needed: someone who really knew me needed to be holding me.

April 17, 2001 Tuesday 12:00 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Fine

Leon stayed for as long as his libido would allow him, something I figured I could excuse him for since I had been in that situation as well. Of course, I was bothered by the look Maritza gave me, like she was examining me for something as though she knew me when she really didn't. It seemed everyone was checking me out lately, even the older people who always lingered in the lobby and laundry room. What struck me as odd though was how Leon had ventured to make a comment about my physical appearance.

He had told me that my breasts looked bigger, something I thought I hid well with my jacket, and he commented on my hair being longer of course, but then he said exactly what the bartender had told me: that I looked happy. It was obvious that I wasn't happy, yet something about me made me appear that way, and I chalked it up to me losing my virginity though that was a while ago. In an effort to try and find what everyone else was seeing I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, checking my body to find that I had recently gained some love, and that was never an issue for me before. I had weighed myself the day before but I stepped onto woman's worst friend once more, frowning when the scale informed me that I had put on five pounds. For a moment I thought to myself what any of this could mean: hair growth, change of texture, weight gain, and swollen breasts.

"Son of a bitch!" I hissed, grabbing my purse from my bedroom before rushing out to the car, not even bothering with locking my door since Leon was right across the hall. Just as I pulled out of my parking spot I slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting someone, and my day had just gotten worse. "Chris?" I almost yelled through my windshield. My brother looked like he had pissed himself, he didn't move an inch, so I unlocked the car doors and leaned over to push open the passenger door. Shakily he made his way around to the side of the car and got in, stuffing his duffle bag between our seats and letting it fall onto the seat in the back.

"Did I miss something?" He had completely surprised me with this visit, but this was the worst time he could have picked to show up. "Where are we going?"

Locking the doors I pulled out, deciding that he would just have to come with me and I'd deal with secrecy when the time came. "I need to go to the store."

I ran a yellow light and he finally put on his seatbelt, some cop he must have been. "Not surprised to see me?"

"Chris," I began slowly, "I _really_ need to get to the store." The slight smile on my face was one of annoyance, not joy, and though I was happy to have two people I knew and cared about near me I just couldn't deal with this shit right now.

Ignoring the graveness in my voice he looked around the inside of the automobile, and even down at the seat he occupied. "Where'd you get a brand new Trailblazer? How'd you afford it?"

Walgreen's wasn't cheap, but I was no longer relying on financial aid and right now this was the closest place to me. "I'll be right back." I had managed to take up two parking spaces, though it shouldn't have been much of a problem since Chris was inside, but then I saw him unbuckling his safety belt. "What are you doing?" My anxiety was not hidden at all, and I was sure he thought I would faint from the waves of excitement I was giving off.

Looking at me like I had sprouted another head he said, "I'm coming with you. I don't understand what the big-"

"I'monmyperiod." The lie left my lips so easily, so quickly, yet he heard every word and I was sure of it because he sat back in his seat with a grimace. Knowing that I had been too hard on him at first because of my own issue, I gave him a half grin, "I'll be back."

When I was inside I headed for the back of the store to the pharmacy, seeing someone in a white coat at the register, and before I approached them I looked around to make sure that no one I knew was around to hear my request. "Um, excuse me, where are the pregnancy tests?"

With a smile he asked, "What kind are you looking for? We keep them back here; young girls were stealing them. They were too afraid to actually walk to the front with them."

For a moment I tried to remember the last commercial I had seen about pregnancy tests, and not one came to mind, leaving me at a loss. "I'm not sure," I murmured, but when I remembered that money was no longer an object I said quickly, "The best one you have." Just as he turned to head for the back I called, "And I want three." No I wasn't embarrassed that I had just asked for three pregnancy tests, I was too fucking worried that I might actually be pregnant to care what anyone thought right now.

He said that he was sterile, that his virus kept him from getting anyone human pregnant, and like an idiot I took it like it came from the mouth of Jesus. There was no way all of these things were happening to me just because of stress because hair _falls out _because of stress. And PMS had never put my body through this much hell. Looking back I feared that he had only claimed sterility so he wouldn't have to bother with condoms since that seemed like the popular thing to do these days, but since he had the opportunity to actually experience the 80s I came to the conclusion that that son of a bitch probably never used a rubber a day in his life.

_You really are stupid aren't you?_

The pharmacist reemerged with three pink boxes and a strange expression strewn on his face. Did he never hear of "third time's the charm?" He scanned the barcodes and announced that I owed $42.51. My hands shook as I handed him a fifty and told him to keep the change, but I did request that he wrap my items in three bags since I didn't need Chris getting too curious about the appearance of "tampons." I threw him a thank you and nearly sprinted through the sliding doors, my apprehension providing me with all I'd need to complete the first pregnancy test.

I didn't hear a word Chris said on the way back, though I knew when to nod my head and say, "oh," at all the right times. As I hurried from the car he seemed to remember my excuse for my rushing and he followed at a brisk pace to make sure I didn't leave without him in the elevator. "Make yourself at home!" I called as I made my way to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

Before I botched a wand I made sure to skim through the instructions, "Urinate on wand for…" I mouthed the rest of the words to myself and when I finished I was sure that I had done it all right, and so I waited, having to yell back to Chris that I was still using the bathroom a few times. My legs and feet were restless with anticipation as I waited for the damned mathematical symbol to appear and hopefully indicate that it was negative. He said I couldn't get pregnant by him, and since he obviously didn't give a damn about me I doubted that he would risk impregnating me with his child.

This was just some serious PMS, I told myself over and over again, feeling my heart beating against my chest until I thought it would leave an indention. When I reached three hundred seconds in my head I filled my mouth with air until my cheeks puffed out, and then I slowly released it to calm myself. Carefully, I stepped up to the sink and peered down at the tiny, rectangular display, and I nearly collapsed.

Shaking violently I grabbed the sides of the sink, steadying myself and having a quick chat with God, thanking him that it read "-." I was not fucking pregnant. So much anxiety had built up in me that I needed to do a few quick hops up and down to calm myself, and I felt a smile so wide grow on my face that I was afraid my dry lips would crack.

_You still should do the other two._

And I definitely would. Right now I thought up every possible excuse that I could for the strange changes to my body though: I was getting older, I really didn't cut my hair the first night, and I was simply bloated. Throughout the day all of these things proved to be true as I sneaked to guzzle orange juice and take the remaining tests that all read negative, and the next day I even got my period. Never in my life had I been happy to see that.

That day Chris noticed the change in my demeanor as I happily ordered us Chinese. "Never knew Chinese takeout excited you so much." Giggling at him I settled in next to him to watch whatever he had on the TV at the time, but I really didn't care to pay attention to whatever it was. "You never answered about the car."

My mood couldn't even be dampened by his questioning, and I came up with something that should have been believable. "Financial Aid doofus," I answered rolling my eyes.

"Whatever, you're getting fat," he retorted, his eyes never leaving the screen, just like a man. "And since you can't seem to stay out of my business too long," he began, putting his arm around the back of the couch, "I thought you should know we finally pinpointed Wesker's location."

My eyes shot wide open, the shock I felt was so severe that I couldn't close them no matter how hard I tried, so I leaned to the side to hide my whole face from him. "How?"

"Can't give too much away, but someone attacked him and he managed to get away."

A frown formed on my face once I allowed his voice to play over in my mind, and I caught a specific word. "Who is 'we'?" My hulking brother fidgeted in his seat a bit before picking up the remote to pretend like he was board with the current show he was viewing. "_Christopher_?" When I said his whole name he knew I was serious, and it also annoyed him to no end.

He gave a heavy sigh that signaled he was breaking just a bit. "An organization I was working with." Shortly after his admission he returned his gaze to the television, not even noticing that this conversation had piqued my interest more than his story about Jill. This was good though because I wouldn't have to deal with answering any question about why it mattered to me who he worked for or with.

It's not like_ he_ was my problem anymore, and he certainly wasn't in any danger now that he was fucking Super Tyrant again. At this point I was just sick of it all. Sick of lying, and sick of living with the knowledge that I had been with him in the Biblical sense. I contemplated the chances of me losing my memory of him if I so happened to "fall" down the stairs. God isn't that gracious, I thought to myself as I scooted over to lean against Chris.

I guess it didn't matter anymore though since my brother was here with me now, and he didn't know a thing. That meant that I was finally safe.

April 18, 2001 Wednesday Time Unknown

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Fine

His eyes would never be the same again; this was the sad realization that dawned upon me as he stared down from his unshielded eyes. His hands were gloved as they had mostly appeared to me in the past, but he wore biker gloves which allowed me to see most of his hands. His body was covered from the neck down in black, the color of death, and strangely the color of the air around us. All I saw was him, and all he saw was me. With fiery eyes he scanned my body up and down, looking animal as he did so, and for a moment I could have sworn that he was checking my scent. Nothing kept me from reaching out to him, yet I didn't, nothing barred me from speaking to him, yet I kept quiet and he merely cocked his head to the side and smirked.

Leaning in closer he asked, "Who are you?"

Though he knew the answer to that question I replied in a small voice after resolving that I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing my voice. "Claire Redfield."

He stepped back to begin circling me, holding his hands behind his back. "So you know who I am." Timidly I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Then say it," he commanded, coming back around to stand in front of me as he waited for me to follow his order. "Dear heart, I won't let them know that you… _know_ me."

His promise gave me chills, not in the good way but in the way they did when I feared that he was the boogey man in my closet. What could he want from me now? Was he here to humiliate me further by making me admit to what I had to live with already, knowing that I needed no more stress put on me.

"Say it." His smirk was gone, leaving me with a white face and a blank expression. "Do not deny me." The warning was delivered with a low voice that bordered on a growl, but I attempted to ignore him, hoping that if I just closed my eyes he would disappear. With a chuckle he said, "Miss Redfield I can hear you. You're safe from everyone but me," he taunted. "I own you. So say it."

My composure broke when I found that I was still here, still being stared down by the eerie figure that I thought I'd never have to lay eyes on again. My eyes found his, no longer matching in color, and the intensity of his glare burned hotter than mine ever could. I was left with no choice but to give in, and in a tiny voice I whispered, "Albert Wesker."

My eyes opened to an infomercial with big yellow numbers plastered on the bottom of the screen, and I looked up to see Chris staring down at me with confusion. "You were having a bad dream," he informed me, and boy did I know it. Sweat from my forehead had caused my bangs to stick to my face and Chris' skin, but I ignored it in hopes that he wouldn't ask me what I dreamt about. Then again that was asking for too much.

Predictably he asked, "What was it about?"

Having decided to lie a long time ago I groaned out, "I don't really remember." It wasn't uncommon to forget a nightmare or a dream right after waking, so I went with that and he only shrugged at me.

"When you're ready to talk about it," the brunet began, "I'm here. Being a guy I can give you some peace of mind about it." His calm referral to the broken relationship touched my heart, making me wonder if he was actually feeling completely different underneath the surface. He hadn't asked me for any personal information or any details, and I appreciated him allowing me privacy. Still I knew my brother was like a dog with a bone, and it didn't matter if he tried his hand at subtlety because I knew him.

The fact that I had managed to get away with the biggest lie I had ever told made me see something horrible about myself though: Chris barely knew me. Wesker had won. He was the one that r_eally_ knew me.

A/N: It's almost 6 AM and this is short but review! Night all!


	11. Vita

A/N: "Vita" is Latin for "life." We get to see what is really wrong with Claire. I thank all the readers and reviewers for sticking with me!

Niki: I'm so glad I've never had to take a pregnancy test. BC for two years, been in a committed relationship for over a year and it's proving to be doing its job. I just tried to imagine how someone would feel taking one, that anxiety and then finding out it's negative. I compared it to how I feel in situations where the status of something is pending. Feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

Olivia-B52007: Well the tests said she wasn't but hehe… it's revealed here!

Naoko Suki: I'm sorry, it's always good to have someone with you during situations like that :( and you're welcome but I thank you for enjoying the story.

Lady Snowstorm: Thank you! And she could be (I would insert evil laugh but it's not funny ): )

AyeXliz: Thank you so much. I'm glad no one thinks I'm evil for dealing her all of these blows.

skidney: Thank you!

NinMetro: It's going to be a wild chapter. Poor, poor Claire…

Optio

Chapter 11: Vita

April 29, 2001 Sunday 11:23 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Fine

It was a good day to go for a walk in the park, so Chris decided to drag me out for some people watching and hopefully a few vendors would be near. There was a birthday going on so we did happen upon an ice cream vendor who happily gave us cones, and we settled on a green bench while enjoying the view of dogs being walked and catching Frisbees before returning them to their owners. Usually I enjoyed a scoop of strawberry, but for some reason today I couldn't really finish it.

As he took the final bite of his cone Chris mumbled out, "You love strawberry," frowning at what he considered odd behavior.

Taking another unenthusiastic lick I figured it was time to give up on forcing it down. "I can taste the sugar," I commented, handing it to my brother who shrugged and happily worked on finishing it for me. Giggling at how greedy he could be I said, "I can't believe you've been here for so long. What about Jill?"

As he finished up his second cone he looked to me and said sincerely, "Claire, my sister is more important than a woman I'm not married to or even in a legitimate relationship with." Though I intended to talk sense into him for Jill I decided against it, I just wanted to work on our relationship as sister and brother while he was here. "Let's walk," he breathed, getting to his feet.

"I knew there was only so long you could go without physical activity," I joked, walking next to him down the trail. He gave a smile, knowing that the steroid jabs were not ever serious, though he had most definitely beefed up since he joined BSAA.

In reply he said, "We're walking to get rid of those love handles you put on. But seriously pull up your pants you've got a muffin-top thing going on right now." Following his advice I realized that though I wanted to burst into tears he was right, the love handles I had discovered weren't going anywhere, but it wasn't like I had been in the exercising mood or anything so I'd have to deal until Chris could no longer fight to urge to hit the gym and then I'd just tag along. I really needed the motivation at this point.

Just from his tone, his facial expression, I knew that today was the day he would want to talk about the whole road trip/boyfriend ordeal. "I had to learn sooner or later," I offered, stuffing my hands in my pockets, but he just stared ahead at the turns ahead of us, probably glad there was a steep hill to climb coming up.

For a whole minute he was silent, but when we reached that hill he mimicked my movement of putting my hands in my pockets. "No father, brother, or even an uncle wants to see a young woman they care about being hurt like that." He licked his lips. "Do you think he cared about you?"

Nodding at the ground below me I said, "For a moment." He wouldn't have told me he had feelings if it wasn't true, that just wasn't the type of man Albert Wesker was, it couldn't be since he so freely let me know that love between the two of us was pretty much impossible. "It wasn't love," I added with certainty.

"So you're okay with it."

No, but I didn't want to tell him that so I lied with, "Getting there. Looking back losing my virginity wasn't that big of a deal."

Shaking his head he put a massive arm over my shoulder and pulled me to him. "What am I gonna do with you?" For a while we talked like we were brother and sister, not like father and daughter, and this meant I'd get to laugh and joke about it all like it was nothing instead of being scolded. I don't know how I was away from him for so long when I had missed him so badly in the past that I put my life in danger twice to find him.

"Let's get pizza." Not arguing with his suggestion I nodded and we walked back to the car.

April 29, 2001 Sunday 1:17 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Danger

As I killed the engine I gave a loud groan, wondering if the pizza was the cause for the cramps I was having. Worried, my brother turned in his seat, "Are you all right?"

Shaking my head I whispered, "I'm not sure." To make myself as comfortable as possible removed my seatbelt and tugged the ponytail holder from my hair, since Chris first arrived it stayed in a tangled, messy bun.

His brown eyes fell to my waist where my hair stopped, and with wide eyes I lifted a few strands up. "I didn't know your hair had gotten that long."

Before I could say, "Neither did I," I felt a tug in my abdomen that was so strong that to lessen the pain I leaned forward with my head against the steering wheel. I let out a hiss of pain, squeezing the wheel in my hands. "Shit!"

Quickly, Chris released himself from his safety belt and looked around the car, "Look you get upstairs and I'll handle getting the stuff all right? Do you need something?" Somehow I managed to nod.

Looking back to him I managed to gasp, "Ibuprofen."

"I'll be back as soon as I can, can you walk?" The pain was beginning to disappear, but there was still a tingling feeling that lingered which told me that whatever this was, it wasn't done. When I removed myself from the car, Chris took the driver's seat, but he didn't leave until I made it into the building, and shortly after that I heard the gear shift quickly as he must have skipped a slow start and tried to go forty-five as soon as the car would let him. With shallow breaths I endured the slow elevator ride, holding myself up by the railing, and I needed the support of the wall as I headed for my apartment to struggle with the lock.

Right after I locked the door I doubled over in pain, clawing at the fake wooden floor, for some reason expecting my attack on the faux material to alleviate that one bothersome symptom. My insides felt like they were twisting and tearing apart, and I was unable to even crawl to the bathroom. That left me with one option: puke in the umbrella bin next to me. I heaved and heaved until there was nothing left to throw up, yet my stomach was still plagued with contractions that encouraged me to continue purging. Exhaustion then teamed up with gravity and I fell onto my back and immediately began rubbing my heels against the floor which only made my head slide up against the door.

I didn't want to scream, but when it felt like something in my gut had burst I had no choice. I screamed bloody murder, my voice managing to reach octaves that I didn't think my voice box would even allow without permanently ruining it. Both the strain and fear that I felt caused me to perspire, and I grabbed hold of my abdomen, pressing against it to maybe stop whatever was going on. It was akin to the menstrual pains I suffered as a young teen, but these were ten times worse and those days should have been long gone. The pressure I was adding did not help though, it made it worse.

My limbs shot out as the pain worsened, and I began banging against my door as I screamed that someone come help me. Yet no one did, and as I realized that Mr. Sidorov had yet to bang his broom against the ceiling I felt more alone than I did in Red Lodge. Then something inside of me somehow communicated to me that this was it.

I had no idea why, but I was going to die.

April 29, 2001 Sunday 1:30 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Danger

I saw flashes of things, felt flashes of pain. I remember someone banged on my door, and then I was hit in my head so hard that I became alert, and it was because someone broke the door in. Of course after I registered that new pain I was slipping into unconsciousness.

"Chris?" I groaned hoarsely before I had faded into the blackness, remembering his face looming over me, and there was the girl from across the hall too.

"Shh, it's okay Claire," he panted unconvincingly, and then I realized that I was moving along with my running sibling.

Lights streamed past me overhead, and I then saw men and women running alongside me in scrubs with masks and those funny hair nets. I tried to move my arms but something had me restrained.

My eyes were now wide as I turned my neck left and right too quickly to take anything in like I had planned. "Chris what's going on?" I demanded, louder than I was upon awaking, but even though my throat was sore from earlier I continued to ask questions. "Where are we?"

He brought a finger up to his mouth to shush me, something I took as sign that it was somewhere I wouldn't have wanted to be.

Despite being tied down I attempted to sit up, my restraints keeping me from accomplishing this minor action. "Who are you people?" My shrieking was tuned out by the hospital personnel; they were probably used to uncooperative patients by now. "Somebody help me!"

The stretcher stopped moving, and a curtain was pulled around me while nurses scribbled feverishly on their clipboards, and Chris bent down next to me to brush loose strands of hair behind my head.

"It's okay," he breathed, gently petting my head. The sight of people readying IVs and syringes though told me differently.

Deciding to try a new tactic I stared into Chris' brown orbs pleadingly, even pathetically I imagined and whispered, "Chris, please help me. Don't let them do this."

Shushing me, he kissed my damp forehead. "Claire, you're sick. They just wanna see what it is, what's wrong with you?"

A doctor with a glasses and a mask covering his mouth and nose ripped back the baby blue curtain, another nurse following behind with an ultrasound machine. "What's wrong?" His voice was demanding almost, and as soon as he laid his cold, gray eyes on Chris they became slits. "Get that civilian out of here!"

Offended, Chris hopped up. "I'm not a civilian and she's my sister!"

"We need you out." The finality in his voice was deadly, but at the last minute he seemed to remember that something called manners existed since his young years in the Stone Age. "You will be let back in once we have determined a prognosis." I pleaded with God that Chris stayed the same hardheaded man that he was in the Air Force.

In Chris' presence the doctor appeared to display a bit of intimidation, until the hulking man that was my brother looked back to me, his jaw taught with rage he promised, "I'll be back."

"CHRIS!" I was ignored as he moved past the creepy physician, and he purposely bumped into him and knocked him back a significant distance.

His nostrils flared, but the doctor repeated his question to which one of the female nurses replied, "Patient was incapacitated on the floor and rendered unconscious from its opening, and is hemorrhaging blood possibly from her uterus."

"My _what_?" I looked back and forth, deciding to struggle once more before that awful pain took hold of me again, forcing a scream out of me.

"Doctor," the nurse said, staring down at the clipboard, "she's the Denver Survivor." For a moment there was complete silence, even from me despite the persistent twisting of my entrails. What did they mean Denver Survivor? Then I let that statement replay in my head: _THE _Denver Survivor. My eyes became wet with tears once I understood that we were all under surveillance by health officials after making it out of Raccoon City, but in my case I had two incidents of exposure under my belt so was I the talk of Denver's medical world? All of those blood tests I endured at every doctor's appointment I had attended after '98 were not standard by any means like I was being told by every receptionist, nurse, and doctor.

I was the only citizen here that was going through it. Once I came back from my eye-opening moment I was too late to scream for help again, and a needle was jammed into my neck. They quickly became blurred figures, yet their voices still came to me clearly.

"Prepare for a sonogram," Creepy Doctor ordered, pulling up my gown, exposing me to the cold, hospital air, and soon the feel of that icky, icy gel being spread over my stomach agitated the cause of my pain, but at this point I couldn't even scream. They must have begun because I heard him drawl out, "Ohh myyyy God-ah. There's something in there."

"She's pregnant."

I couldn't be pregnant the only person I'd slept with was the very sterile Albert Wesker! I'd taken pregnancy tests that claimed I wasn't carrying a child!

"Doctor!" a new voice cried. "The blood shows signs of infection!"

"Get someone from the CDC."

The voices continued to swirl, making no sense even though what they were saying was as simple as it could get. "Infected." "It's the fetus." "Impossible." Soon my brain began to pound from it all and a bout of Vertigo sent my body through the sensation of disorientation even though I knew exactly where I was, and I just wished it would all stop. Then, there was blackness.

April 29, 2001 Sunday 1:42 PM

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Fine

It had merely been luck that I had still been in the vicinity when the call pertaining to a possible biohazard was sent to the CDC, and when it was established that the patient was The Denver Survivor all scheduled plans had to be forced back. Now that I was no longer human I could once more risk whatever was necessary to make it to the hospital before a complete and total quarantine was issued. They had already begun to set up, and that bumbling buffoon that she had the misfortune of claiming as a sibling was only now looking up from the payphone to take in the sight of his precious little sister being locked away from him. Auspiciously I did not have the same limits as he, which would have been the cause of the end of the Redfield bloodline had I not lingered to ensure that she was safe.

They had not moved her from the first floor yet. "Hmm." I removed my safety belt and before ripping the headset from my ear I commanded, "Be ready." Not hesitating to consider the consequences, I shifted into drive and stomped down on the pedal, earning myself the sound of squealing rubber and an audience. "Goodbye." The sound of honking horns would not deter me as I kept the wheel straight, barreling through the temporary barricade while men in hazmat suits scattered helplessly.

I stole a glance at Christopher, smirking at his shocked expression though he could not see me through the tinted windows, although perhaps he possessed the necessary amount of brain cells to conjure up an idea of who was driving. Who the fuck was I kidding? "Idiot." The car crashed through the sliding, glass doors easily, and I pulled up the emergency break. I readied my body for my expulsion from the automobile and I successfully rolled from the vehicle, over the hood and onto the glass littered floor, pulling my gun from my jacket.

No silencer was necessary today, I thought to myself with a grin.

Before a command could be uttered I dispatched the five agents in the lobby with quick shots, and I was actually beginning to feel like my old self. Once more, I could look on at how easily humans were taken down by a bullet to the shoulder, a morbid fact which prompted a deeper appreciation for my ascension. Now was no time to gloat though, I needed to get to Claire before she was moved and before any other government organizations became involved in the matter since chances of retrieval after that would be extremely low. It did force me to question though what was it that was going on with her? The only way the CDC would need to be called in would be if she showed signs of infection, and upon this recollection of information I could not help but regret not informing her that though my enemy had no record of her the good U.S. of A _did_.

No more men were emerging from the hallway, which was a sign that I had arrived just in time, and now I needed to keep up this track record since the hospital cameras would soon be confirming a sighting of me. A new batch of officials would contain trained men with weapons, and although they would pose no threat against me I would be leaving here with cargo I could for some unknown reason, yet admittedly consider precious. The sound of murmuring directed me to the correct room and without question I disposed of every physician standing inside, my eyes falling on the unconscious and exposed Redfield sibling with tubes jammed into each arm. Rather than take a moment to assess the situation I chose to unhook her from the machines and pull down the thin hospital gown that they hadn't cared was pulled up.

A moment of sentiment washed over me, and I had no choice but to immediately nip it in the bud as a beep alerted me to the arrival of our ride. Without attempting to rouse her, I took her into my arms bridal style and ran from the room, avoiding the path traveled earlier. The electronic doors slid open as I approached them, walking out onto the path strictly reserved for Ambulances where several men clad in black held their automatic weapons at the ready.

"Albert Wesker you are surrounded! Put the subject down and surrender yourself to the United States Government!" The man in the middle was horrible at projecting confidence, perhaps he knew his gun wouldn't have helped even if he could have used it, and why would they threaten me when I held "priority number one" in my hands? With a smirk I thought, maybe it's because I lost my shades.

The sound of rubber peeling pierced the air of seriousness, almost forcing the obedient soldiers to take their eyes off of the target. "Good day gentlemen," I drawled, just a few seconds before a black Sedan skidded sideways to a halt but not before denting its passenger door with the bodies of half a dozen of the men. As a reminder that they could not shoot, I made my way to the car facing them and I boarded through the left back door to ensure that Claire was inside first. It was all too easy.

It disappointed me how quickly we slipped through their fingers, yet since Claire's life was in my hands it was best that I not complain. In her drug induced sleep she groaned and her muscles twitched violently, so much to the surprise of my driver I positioned her so that her head lay in my lap.

A pair of brown eyes met with mine in the rearview, and a feminine hand delivered a pair of shades into my own. "What exactly is going on?"

"Ms. Wong you are not being paid to ask questions," I replied, my gaze returning to the pale face that rested on my thighs. I had only seen her a week ago leaving her apartment yet a difference in her appearance was notable: her hair had grown at the least six inches longer, her cheeks were plumper, and her own scent had changed in some way. With a frown my curiosity had peaked, leading me to disregard the possible judgments of the driver to satisfy my own inquisitiveness, and before I thought back to the present medical instruments that were in the hospital room I pulled down the top of her gown slightly. Clenching my teeth was the only way to keep me from saying anything at all.

The ultrasound machine… It was impossible.

"Where to?" Ada purred.

"The Cheyenne facility."

"Isn't that one operable?" she countered with an already arched brow raised.

No reply from me was necessary for one look told her that I did not care. Right now what supplies I would need was a mystery, but surely I would need someplace with a reliable circuitry system and sterile instruments. Whatever drugs they supplied Claire with had kept her asleep the whole two hours, yet she attempted to toss and turn which were movements that were not permitted by me or the small space of the backseat.

I had access to the labs of the Cheyenne facility still, and there were very few people who still held that privilege. I figured that taking the back entryway was my best option, so I instructed Ada to get rid of the car and wait in the office of the level seven labs. There was no need for her to see or know what happened as I myself prepared to understand why exactly Miss Redfield needed to be sent to the ER. The plan had originally been to observe her for a month to ensure that she was safe and it appeared she had been if one did not count her visit to a party that she was unable to leave until the next day.

Many did not consider me a man of my word or a man who believed in fairness, they claimed that I even hated those who I employed, but the loyalty Redfield had demonstrated was far stronger than the sort money could buy. Therefore I chose to wait, to watch her from afar before I went about my business, and I would be lying if I said that I owed her nothing. Carefully, I laid her down on the operating table, and I found every tool I would need and washed my hands before putting on a pair of gloves. There had been no need to search for the ultrasound machine; it was placed next to the operating table already, and for a moment I remembered that the Nemesis project was tinkered with here.

Moving to raise the gown, I heard the tiniest moan that signaled that she was waking up, and without my shades I stared down at her half lidded eyes, able to see that she was struggling to stay awake. Then her eyes fell upon me which caused them to open just a bit wider. Though I expected her to say my name instead her face twisted into an expression of pain, and she reached for her abdomen. "I will try my hardest to help you."

Groaning loudly, she arched her back and opened her mouth to speak. "I'm pregnant," she warned tearfully.

Now that I had the confirmation that was needed I felt a frown settle on my face, knowing that the outcome of this would not the preferred one and I had a feeling which one she preferred. Once more she howled in agony, the pain so unbearable that I witnessed her beginning to claw at the source of the pain. "Tell me are you feeling contractions?"

Possibly from something she witnessed on television she began using the Lamaze technique, although I doubted that it would do her any good. "I don't know what those even feel like!"

Being a woman I expected her to know this, however in her current condition I needed to remain as calm as possible with her. "Imagine the worst menstrual cramps possible," I replied, starting up the machine next to us.

For a moment she thought and clenched her teeth to keep from crying out once more. "No," she groaned.

"Then Lamaze won't help." My information was blunt but my last concern was keeping her hopes high about the pain, I needed to be sure that she would live through this and to be sure that what was within her was actually human. The gel was nearby, and I grabbed it to squeeze it out of the tube onto her abdomen. This machine was a brand new instrument they referred to as a 4D ultrasound machine that would be released to hospitals by the end of the year, and this was a much better model since I would be able to view what was happening in real time.

Before I took a look I stared down at her, knowing that my eyes were unnerving enough, but she needed to understand why I was saying what I was. "There is a possibility that this child will not be human."

Despite her pain, she grew still and silent. "What are you saying?"

"I will have no choice but to terminate this pregnancy if it will cost you your life."

I reached to begin the ultrasound but she took hold of my arm, surprising me that she had any strength left. "If this baby is human, make sure it survives no matter what. Promise me," she demanded, those blue eyes may have matched my own with the intensity of her gaze alone.

Since we were pressed for time I gave a short answer, hoping that she would drop it and relax. "Yes." When she received reassurance her focus returned to the source of her pain, and I heard the sound of heels faltering behind me.

Ada stood there with a box in her hands, justifying her intrusion before I could bark at here to leave us. "You left Birkin's package with me." Never had the spy been nervous in her actions before, yet the sight of Claire screaming at the top of her lungs had managed to shake her to her core. Wordlessly she left after sitting the wooden box on the counter to my left.

Knowing that I could waste no more time I pressed the transducer to her stomach, the display image surprising even me. A few times she asked what it was that had me so confounded, yet there were no words to describe what you had never truly seen before, and it was already made difficult by the bad news I would have to deliver. What I witnessed was unnatural and as impossible as its conception should have been. It was a very active embryo that appeared to be in the last embryonic stage, bordering on human but not quite there, yet from the way it moved I could see that it was fully developed.

Usually by the final week as an embryo it would be only one half of an inch, but this particular specimen looked to be close to half a foot in length. The life within her was incomplete yet complete by its own standards, and as the creature twisted within her it revealed to me an overextended coccyx, yet rather than it being smaller than its body it looked to be the same length.

Somehow she found the strength to sit up to stare at the display, and she whispered with a despaired tone, "It has a tail…" Her viewing was ended as she gave another groan, and I saw clearly what was causing it: the being was attempting to force its way from her abdomen without caring that it would damage its own host and mother on its way out.

I took my eyes from the screen and let them settle on the wooden box, knowing that I had no option but to tell her the truth. "Claire, it is attempting to tear its way through your abdomen. The chance that you would survive does not exist." Seeing her tears in some way disturbed me, pushing me to do what I wished to refrain from, but now I could see that there was no way for me to surgically remove the creature in time. "Unless you are willing to set aside all you believe in for the _smallest_ _chance_ that you may live."

Somehow she managed to stay calm in order to hear me out in my attempt to save her life. Though she seemed afraid she endured me stepping away briefly to open the box left to me by my late colleague and friend, William Birkin. Inside was nestled a capped syringe that held a gray colored liquid with a disk that more than likely was placed to tell me the specifics of this particular concoction. All I knew now was that it was special, having been created before my own virus had been produced, and with the syringe in hand I neared her once more.

Displaying what could have possibly been her salvation I grabbed her arm with my free hand, "This is an experimental virus." I felt her muscles tense and knew that she would attempt to free herself from my grip, but I tightened my hold on her and quickly added, "That may bring you back. And when it has done its job I swear to you that I will find a way to remove it from your system. The choice is yours."

With the knowledge that her young life would undoubtedly be ended by a product of her own body, she bit down on her bottom lip so hard with contemplation that she drew blood, and she refused to speak her answer to me. Claire Redfield would never speak the words, "Make me a monster," and for a moment I will admit that I feared that she would choose pride over her own life. Then she nodded once, and without delay I used my teeth to remove the cap from the needle and tapped the glass with my fingernail before plunging the needle into her neck without warning. With a gasp, she relaxed, but it was not because of the virus. I looked down to her stomach that had remained flat throughout the gestation period, and saw something subtly pressing upward from inside.

Those blue eyes never left me as the last bit of her life drained from her, she went silently (which in my eyes was strong), and I reached for the scalpel to my right. The surgical steel cut through her easily, getting me to what was technically my offspring quickly, and I was left without a clue of what to expect. I could see a part of its body, and I took this moment to grab hold of it, not having to be mindful of its host's wellbeing. For something so small I could tell that it was strong as it wriggled in my hand, and I pulled the blood-covered creature from her as it screamed and struggled against me.

There was no sign of humanity in what I held onto. No sex was present which was the first thing I noticed about its physical appearance as it threw its head back and forth, showing that it possessed complete and total control over its motor skills. The tail was whipping wildly from the bottom of my hand and it gave another anguished wail, presenting me with a full set of teeth that it snapped angrily, and I did not rule out that maybe it used those very same teeth to gnaw through the innards of its mother. The scientist in me faded into the background as I was once more struck with the fact that this was my child that I had created with the woman lying dead on the table before me. Yet this thing knew nothing of the significance of our relationship to it, and as it set its orange eyes on me I knew that I needed to end it now.

Quickly with the thumb and index finger of my free hand I clamped onto its neck and tightened them fatally, ending the screeching and quite possibly the suffering of my own flesh and blood. To avoid any creeping sentiment I placed the body in the surgical tray and began sewing up Claire's wounds, trying to remember how long she had been lifeless. If the virus I administered was anything like my own then she should have been awake by now, but here listless gaze was steadily staring at the place my face last was in her vision.

"Put her in the cryotank."

Ignoring Ada's insubordination, I ripped the brunette's gown from her lifeless body and lifted her from the cold table. The spy watched as I carried her to the next room that was primarily occupied by a large tank that had been empty for years. For all I knew it could soon be occupied for twice as long as that.

April 29, 2001 Sunday 6:36 PM

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Cheyenne, Wyoming

Status: Fine

For hours I conducted research on the specimen that emerged from Miss Redfield, confounded by its very existence. From what I could tell it had began its gestation period at the start of April, and I knew the exact day that it was conceived from that information alone. We had engaged in relations only once this entire month: our last day in Red Lodge, Montana which made the gestation period twenty-six days total. Rapid growth in this case was an understatement, something that was proven by its apparent "over-development" seeing as it had two full rows of teeth.

Though conception occurred twenty-six days before it had the appearance of an eight week old embryo except it was much larger, and I struggled to grasp an understanding of the whole thing. It would take weeks of study to get an answer, and since the monitors showed no brain activity whatsoever for Claire it appeared that all I had was time. Completely naked, she floated in the clear, bluish liquid, her hair floating around her, and I took in her appearance for notes. Her hair had grown to reach her waist in a matter of weeks, her breasts had increased an entire cup size, and her body held a noticeably new amount of fat around her waist, arms, and face.

The hCG levels within her body were barely there which proved that what she carried had not been human and that if she had taken a pregnancy test it would have read negative. Somehow it managed to keep her body from recognizing its presence, all the while residing within her for protection and nourishment. So from its start it possessed some sense of self preservation.

My desire to escape the thought of my lost offspring lead me to grow curious about the contents of the disk that had been with the syringe. This long after his death Will still managed to surprise me. Knowing that I should have played it already I placed it into the CD-Rom drive. An image of my former colleague appeared on the computer screen, and he did not exude the cockiness and confidence he was once known for.

"Hello Al. If you are watching this I am dead. Believe it or not there were a few people we could still trust and that person seems to have kept up his deal and delivered the box to you. Please understand that it took years to get to you because it was necessary to wait for things to cool down lest this package be intercepted. I'll bet you're thinking, 'What the hell has he come up with now?' Well I'll tell you. Before I made your virus I stumbled across the most extraordinary cocktail, yet I never got to test it on a human subject. Petri dishes only showed so much Al, but what it showed me…"

His face showed that he was proud and in disbelief all at once. "It is something special. It may not be strong enough for you to want it but for someone else it could be a diamond in the rough. I don't know what you will choose to do but if you administer this to a human then I implore you that it is given to someone worthy of the effects. Do not waste the only product of mine yet to be tested on the undeserving, someone who is meant to be disposed of."

For a moment he looked saddened. "I would ask how Sherry and Annette are but… I won't receive an answer," he added with a scoff. "If they're alive though, tell them both I'm sorry, tell them that I love them and that if I could go back and change what brought about my demise then I would. Hell I'd be a fool not to." The laugh he gave was meant to lighten the dim mood he created for himself, but the fact that he had died because of foolishness only made it all much worse.

"Take care Al. I hope that this can in some way help you. If this is the last good thing I can do for a friend, then whatever happens to me, wherever I may go, I'll know that my final act did something for someone who was close to me." With a disheartened smile and a nod, he ended the video, officially making it the last time I saw William Birkin.

I knew I would never watch that video again.

My eyes wandered back to the woman in the cryotank who was clinically dead, but it did not shake the trust I had in Will, nor the faith I had in her genetic makeup. If she could carry life within her that was not probable in the first place, then I had to think that she would soon react to the virus. This whole time I attempted to overlook the obvious when it came to Claire even though it danced before my eyes and rang out in my mind.

Though I prided myself on having no attachments to humans I knew that there was a reason that I worked to save her. I had exposed myself to the public and the United States Government all to keep her from receiving a stamp that labeled her as their property. Had I not intervened then she would have died in their hands and product of our affair would have become a project for them to monitor and put down when they grew bored of funding it. That left me to face a fact that I repressed and hid for almost a month.

I still cared for her.

Still there was something else that just as incessantly nibbled away in the back of my mind and though I had neither desire nor the ability to take advantage of it, it was still a verity that I needed to keep in mind. Against all odds and with a human no less, I was able to procreate.

A/N: I feel like I should stop here since I've been on this ALL night until 6 AM just like the last chapter. To make sure this would work out with the false negatives I had to look up, "Do human pregnancy tests work on dogs?" and nope! I know Claire's a human but the baby wasn't. And lucky me the 4D ultrasound was introduced near the end of 2001. Of course places like Umbrella would be using it before the actual release date 'cause they got it like that! And I had to look up the steps of a c-section and they kept trying to get me to watch videos so I couldn't go into detail about him opening her up because I was honestly unable to watch those videos. I got through about 30 seconds and no I can't do it. Uh, uh, I was forced to watch a video in 10th grade of a woman delivering vaginally. Hell to the no I don't want to see any type of birth because even seeing a shark give birth makes me cringe. People being split naturally or with instruments, either way I can't watch- I AM SQUEAMISH! I can eat while looking at pictures on but seeing the act of taking a scalpel and scissors and just cutting through someone makes me cringe, wave my arms, and shout. So okay off that topic, please review!


	12. Vigilo

A/N: "Vigilo" means "awake." I originally intended for this chapter to be about Chris' reaction to Claire's disappearance and about Sidorov and Maritza, but it would have been pretty short. Claire was only supposed to be in a very short part at the end but I changed my mind! There was also meant to be an afterlife part but this isn't a Fantasy or whatever so no. Steve would have made an appearance but it would have been too much Fantasy to have pages dedicated to Claire being in heaven chatting with Grandpa Redfield and the Burnsides. This isn't True Blood its Resident Evil. And I wrote a little ahead thinking of what to do for the future. I have also decided where they have to go next. And also there's going to be an extremely intense moment with Claire and Wesker involved there. I've been watching season 7 of Buffy lately so hopefully this chapter isn't super emotional. I said I wouldn't watch the entire last episode but I did and I cried like a baby. Why couldn't they take Faith or Dawn? I know he comes back but damn not with Buffy! I don't read the comics but I hope when Buffy reaches the Godhood they claim she will that her and Spike will be together FOREVER! Yes this means I hate Angel AKA Captain Forehead! Ahem.

C. Redfield 86: I am now scarred for life. They just PULLED the baby out by the head O_o

Naoko Suki: Someday we will have to know sadly. He needed a kickass move for that chapter! Sorry for the wait. I know I've been tweeting like crazy so I should be updating as well but I just have been trying to get back in the swing of school.

natka: Thank you! I'm glad to know I have a new reader.

Olivia-B52007: Yes Mr. Wesker has a crush :D

Lady Snowstorm: I didn't freak you out did I?

elevenzombiezz: It's no problem these things happen. And thank you!

Anonymous fangirl: Thank you so much and I will!

Niki: It's just one more thing to make her stronger.

skidney: I'm glad it was in a good way :)

NinMetro: I expected it to come out creepy but I just didn't believe she needed a kid now.

PurgatoryNymphe: It's all right, I hope you had fun! Nah, Wesker's personality in Claire's dream is just her mind's over-dramatic projection of him. Yeah he may say, "mine" but not in the chain you to the wall while I go out and kill children way. We're all possessive of those we want or care for, Wesker's not like Spike was for Buffy, now _that_ was possessive and obsessive, but they did "Have a miraculous love!" Sorry for mentioning them again lol. But that possessive animal way is no different than how many people are when it's time for sex. He watched her for three weeks though to return the favor of her watching out for him, but you'll just have to read and see what happens. So glad you still like the story!

XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX: I love doing that lol. And thank you I understand. Netflix has had me in its grasp for days watching James Marsters.

Anony: Thank you so much I'm happy you like it! I think I prefer to convey emotions and thoughts for the characters rather than spend two paragraphs describing a potted plant in the corner of a room. Claire's mourning will be interrupted slightly in this chapter and it won't be for the better. I know, bad me, but yes Wesker and Claire are going to end up getting closer and admitting more than they did before due to all of the changes both of them will be going through so there's the bright side!

Neliel: Thanks for the review!

Optio

Chapter 12: Vigilo

April 30, 2001 Monday 3:16 PM

Subject: Redfield, Chris

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Worried

"I'm telling you for the last time, my sister has _no_ affiliation with Albert Wesker!" I swear if I had to keep speaking with these CDC fucks then I was going to end up flipping out and throwing them from Claire's window. At least they claimed they were from the CDC, but then again this had to do with something linked with Umbrella so they most likely were.

"Calm down. We're just trying to do our job sir." His warning fell on deaf ears and I looked at him like he had just spoken to me in Greek.

"Your job is to accuse my sister of being a terrorist?"

"You calling our witnesses liars?" he replied, eyebrow raised above his shades.

Jill's grip on my arm tightened when she felt my body tense, I was about to clobber this guy. "And what about the nosy Russian who swears that it's not the same guy who came to pick up Claire? Maritza even?" I demanded, throwing a finger in her direction as she and Leon gave information to an equally useless and annoying agent.

He gave no reply to that, just kept scribbling in his little notepad while chewing the inside of his cheek, possibly also trying to keep his temper in check, and that showed me that he was smart because he'd wind up getting his scrawny ass kicked. Then he sighed and said, "I just don't understand how you can ignore the signs Mr. Redfield. Everything your sister sent to the University for her classes was untraceable, she has a closet full of clothes with price tags still attached that read way out of the range of an unemployed, college student. The bank card in her purse has been mysteriously cut off from an unidentified account, she has a new car and a motorcycle that has disappeared since her _kidnapping_, and Albert Wesker suddenly shows an interest in her and abducts her…"

Pulling at my hair I growled out, "Maybe it was all from her ex-boyfriend!"

"Chris…" Jill's voice was soft, and it would have been soothing had this asshole not been accusing my only sister of being in league with Wesker, and I wanted to end the shit that was spewing from his mouth about her by plugging it with my fist.

"Who is looking more and more to be Albert Wesker," he replied snidely. Just as I jumped up from the couch the door to the apartment opened and a brunet guy looked around like a deer caught in headlights. I'd recognized him as that guy Byron who'd once come over while he was stoned out of his mind, and just because I was in the mood, I hated him even more than the last time I saw him, but then again since he walked in out of nowhere so much maybe he'd seen something to prove my sister's innocence. Hell, he was loaded so maybe it'd turn out that he was the guy supplying my sister with all these things, because let's face it, I'd approve of him way before I would my old captain.

His eyes went from the man standing over me to my own, and he asked, "Is this a bad time?"

Agent Asshole turned to him with false geniality, gesturing for the younger man to join us. "I'm Agent McCoy with the CDC and I have a few questions concerning Claire Redfield. I assume you know her?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, and though he was asking a question to a civilian it would seem that a threat lay beneath his inquisitive tone: answer or we'll beat an answer out of you, and then beat you some more for good measure.

Nervously he said, "Sure."

As he neared us the agent reached into his pocket and pulled out that fucking photograph of Wesker, and I noticed Maritza had stopped conversing with the other agent for a moment. Almost as if she had zoned out for a second she shook her head and turned her attention back to him. Clasping my hands, I felt Jill rubbing my arm, quiet as she had been for most of the questioning. "Have you seen this man?" McCoy seemed a bit smug as he held the picture up, and when Byron's eyes opened even wider he smirked instantly.

"That's him!" he yelled, jabbing his index finger at the photo. "That's the guy that kicked me out of here! He even had on those stupid shades then!"

Putting the picture back in his pocket McCoy asked, "Kicked you out?"

With less shock audible he declared, "Shit yeah! Motherfucker waltzed in and kicked me right out. I don't know his name but that's definitely her ex-fiancé-"

Once more I jumped to my feet and almost screamed, "What the fuck did you just say?"

Nonchalantly he shook his head and murmured," Guess she got rid of the ring." My heart felt like it had dropped into my stomach as I heard Maritza in the background still denying what Byron confirmed, then again she had claimed to not have seen Claire face to face during her traveling months. If what Byron was saying was true then it could only mean one thing and one thing only: Wesker had begun threatening my sister, and he was using her against me because she would _never_ betray me.

There was something I wasn't being told either. Why was the CDC involved?

Date Unknown, Day Unknown, Time Unknown

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Cheyenne, Wyoming

Status: Pending

I wanted to reach for the alarm clock that was going off, until I remembered that I didn't have one, and then I remembered pain. My eyes would not open for some reason, my legs wouldn't move, my whole body was still and I felt warmth surrounding me that was indescribably comforting. Though my eyes were closed I saw a blond male looking down at me, and though my ears felt clogged I heard a woman screaming, and the voice sounded so familiar yet I couldn't place it. Was it me?

Then, I felt my body descending, hearing the sound of liquid splashing and draining around me, and my eyes were finally free to take in my surroundings. Encased in glass was how I found myself, and I suddenly remembered that I wasn't breathing. As I was lowered to the floor beneath me I heard rapid beeping sounds, and I began coughing up the liquid that was stuck inside my throat. In an effort to force all of the liquid up I ended up retching while having to hold myself up on all fours. The metal beneath my naked body was becoming cold, and began to notice the white cords dangling around me.

Ripping them from my arms and head I heard a few final, prolonged beeps, and the glass that imprisoned me slid open to introduce a whoosh of cold air to my exposed skin. As a matted mess my hair clung to me, hugging my waist and back, and when I attempted to stand my knees buckled beneath my own weight. Witnessing how weak I was I attempted to call out, "Help," but the word was stuck in my throat and my unused voice refused to get any louder than a whisper.

Cold, wet, I struggled to remember where I was and exactly what had happened to me. Screams were all I could remember, and… Wesker.

Palm raised, I looked down to my stomach to find stitches that ran along the bottom of my stomach horizontally, and as I rested my hand on them I recalled the events that led to me being here. I had been pregnant, and my child was inhuman. A sob broke through from me while I remembered Wesker telling me that my- our baby was attempting to kill me to escape from my womb, and he…

Was I dead?

The hour remained unknown to me, the day being as much as a mystery, and for all I knew ten years could have flown by while I stayed frozen in place, buried here for eternity. When no one came I crawled under the nearest desk, failing at an attempt to hide my nude body from the cold, lab air, but not a soul was present. Hugging my knees closely I rested my chin atop them in thought as tears continued to stream down my face with freeness, but I just remembered the baby every time I tried to assess my current circumstances. Something had grown inside of me for an unknown period of time, living off of me and whatever I chose to consume, including alcohol, and that very same life was snatched out of me by its father who was nowhere to be seen. He infected me, and then he left me here to figure out everything on my own.

Desperately I wanted to reach a mirror to check my eyes for any trace of whatever virus was within me, but my legs were still not cooperating with my brain that decided to disregard what I wanted altogether. The sound of metal grating caught my ear, and I hugged my knees tighter to my body, smashing my breasts further up on my chest. Boots sounded against the floor, the footfall waning for a moment, and then they sped up and sounded desperate. Fearing the worst I clamped my hands to my mouth to stop myself from gasping no matter what happened as I saw a long pair of legs appear before me, and then the owner of those limbs turned and bent down.

Though I recognized the man through his stubble and through the dimness of the room I shrank back and braced my hands against the floor. My heart began pounding against my ribcage in either panic or excitement. He was going to kill me for having his baby, and for it not being human. Somehow that notion settled and hatched in my brain, yet as he slowly reached for me I felt calmer, and his large hands took hold of my arms to gently pull me from beneath the desk. Like I was some sort of alien who was unused to human customs he knelt down on one knee to take in the sight of me, and in my nakedness I felt modesty creeping up to remind me that clothes existed and I shouldn't be sitting there like I was wearing them when in fact I wasn't.

His voice broke the quiet of the lab in a smooth tone that seemed to resemble one of caring. "Dear heart." Releasing that breath that had been caged inside of my chest I threw my torso onto him, being accepted into his arms, and he tensed when I nuzzled my face into his neck. Right now I needed warmth, and right now I was also feeling a stronger need that I had to ignore. It could never be that way again.

Date Unknown, Day Unknown, Time Unknown

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Cheyenne, Wyoming

Status: Pending

In an all white room I sat on an exam table, calmly swinging my legs in the hopes of the strength returning to them maybe by tomorrow but that may have been pushing it. With difficulty I buttoned up the oversized, white shirt, but further progress was interrupted when the vertical sliding door retreated upward to allow Wesker through. Chart in hand, he approached me, setting the clipboard down on the table that held me to finish my undone job of covering my torso. For a moment our eyes locked, reminding me that I had yet to see my own image reflected to me in a mirror, but I wouldn't push it since I still could barely speak. In the slightest bit of movement he seemed to lean in, his action forcing a deep breath from my lungs, and he stepped back quickly, retrieving his chart.

Clearing his throat of something that probably didn't exist, he asked formally, "Do you know your name?"

Through the cracking and dryness I managed to rasp out, "Claire Redfield."

Quickly after I answered he inquired, "Do you know the date?"

Finding that harder to produce I looked down to my thighs, wracking my brain for the date that I was last awake. "April…" I had meant to say thirtieth, but I was too uncertain to give it as a final answer.

With a sigh he scribbled something on his clipboard before setting it on the counter behind him, and he pinched the bridge of his noise. "You've been in stasis for six months."

The first thing that came to mind was, I missed Chris' birthday, but I didn't say this out loud. With my mouth ajar I looked to him pleadingly as if he could possibly turn back the clock and return all the time I had lost. "Six months?" I repeated the words as if they had been foreign and I got no sense from them, but I did. "That would make it…"

"November second," he finished for me, crossing the room to inspect me further. With one hand he lifted my chin, staring down from his mix of red and orange, giving me a view of myself in his eyes. "Your eyes have remained the same," he informed me, stepping back a bit, and with an apologetic glare he lifted my shirt. Being without a razor for half a year wasn't exactly ideal, and wearing another person's underwear was going too far so I just had to endure Wesker's inspection. Plus, it wasn't a sexual encounter it was a physical checkup.

"Gone," he murmured, stepping back to the counter to scribble more on his clipboard.

As I searched for signs of a cesarean section I recalled the day at the ER, then the moment when Wesker informed me that our child would take my life. There was no scar at all. "Maybe every post-labor woman needs to take a vacation to the stasis tank," I joked, not even cracking a smile at my own attempt at humor.

With more of a business voice than one of caring he asked, "How do you feel?"

Ignoring the urge to explain my emotions I instead decided that since he was referring to my physical state that's what I'd reply to. "Tired. Like I _haven't_ been sleeping for six months."

For a moment he just stood there, studying me, and I felt my cheeks growing red for some reason, possibly because it had been such a long time since I received this much attention from him. Then again, he was most likely watching me every day while I stayed in stasis as the virus bonded with me, and then I wondered if it would be possible to rid me of it at this point. "The body was incinerated, for obvious reasons," he added while I frowned in confusion.

It took me a while but I realized that he was talking about… I didn't even know what to call it. "What was the sex?'

Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned back against the counter and pulled a pair of shades from the pocket of his shirt. "There was no sex," he said evenly, returning his shades to their usual place, hiding his eyes. "If you would like to know details, there's a report and pictures-"

"No!" I yelled, holding a hand up for him to stop speaking. "I don't want to…"

Looking down he decided to make an offer that he believed was kind. "If you would like to name it for the purpose of a memorial…"

Closing my eyes, I then covered my face with my hands. "Does it even bother you?" I inquired from behind them. He said nothing, prompting me to look up to make sure that he was still even there. To me it seemed like he was thinking of how to phrase exactly what he wanted to say, but maybe he was just thinking of what to say period. It was highly unlikely that my reaction to his feelings about a child we never got to bond with mattered much to him anyhow.

"That which I do not know," the blond began, standing up straight, "cannot bother me." Defeated, my head dropped. "You feel this way because you are a woman. I am not. And I knew nothing of a child until the day it ripped you to shreds on the inside," he spat, though I was unsure if his anger was aimed at me or our offspring. "It looked me in the eye and snapped its teeth, so remember that when you mourn the loss of something that was clearly not meant to be."

He moved to leave but I once more looked up to him, almost yelling "Were you lying to me?" At that he stopped dead in his tracks, cocking his head to the side for me to elaborate, but I knew that he required no clarification. "When you told me that you were sterile?" I did anyway.

"Not a lie. Ignorance."

I wanted to ask him more but he left the room before I could. He'd better be coming back with a wheelchair, was all I could think.

A little while later he returned to retrieve me, supplying me with a much needed wheelchair for transportation. In silence he helped me into some plain, white underwear and a pair of shorts. I guess it was time to leave this place.

"We need to move you somewhere where we can run tests safely," he said as he helped me into the wheelchair, picking me up bridal style from the table.

When I attempting to propel myself along he surprised me by pushing the wheelchair himself, doing a much better job than I probably could since I'd never had to learn to use one before. "Where are we going?" The elevator dinged and opened, allowing us to enter its car, and he followed my new method of transportation inside.

Pressing a button he answered, "Canada."

November 3, 2001 Saturday 7:00 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Cold and Pissed

When Wesker pressured me to take the three coats he purchased me as carry-on luggage I thought that he had lost his mind, but once we left the airport I understood why it was necessary. We passed a sign that declared, "Welcome to Mayo Heart of the Yukon," and I thought bitterly to myself, More like the freezer of the Yukon. Right now it was negative four outside and the heater in the car wasn't helping as much as I expected it would. To occupy myself and take my mind off of how badly my teeth were chattering I read a pamphlet on Red Lodge number two (since I was once more thrown into a place in the middle of nowhere with Wesker that's what it'd be called).

The record low was fucking negative eighty degrees. Exactly how was I not seeing human popsicles? Maybe they were all buried since this thing said that there were only two hundred and sixty-seven people, and I wished that I could have gained a cool power so I could have maybe melted Wesker with my eyes. Red Lodge had at least two thousand people but this place was like solitary confinement, which was most likely the point.

Right now a blinding, white blanket of snow covered the land but there wasn't much to see other than trailers, the Bedrock Motel (which looked cute but small), a church, and a few businesses. Finding that the scenery was dull I began reading more about my new home away from home… away from home only to find that a significant chunk of people had no education, but it wasn't half so it wasn't as bad as other places I'd read about. Over half the population had never been legally married and apparently there weren't many people making babies which given the hellish weather here… wait I'd rather be heating up the bedroom than gathering firewood. I saw a few people drive in the opposite direction of us in an old, steel truck and cringed at the thought that soon I'd be as pale as them unless Wesker bought me a tanning bed.

Hmm, at least he'd fit in here.

Finally we turned off of Silver Trail and made our way down a dirt toad that was hidden well by the foliage, and as the car roughly made its way into the clearing I wanted to strangle both the driver and Wesker. The roof of the place we would be staying in was a plain white without the snow and it wasn't dull because of the clouds blocking the sunlight, and these things didn't bother me. No, what bothered me was the fact that this vast roof was a bit under eye level: the house was under-fucking-ground.

Frowning at the apparent downgrade in comparison to the residence I occupied in Red Lodge, I whispered to the window, "You gotta be kidding me." The question I probably should have asked was if this was a lab, but Wesker and I had not spoken since before we boarded the plane that would take us here so we had managed to go a _long_ time in silence. The driver stopped the car and got out to begin taking out our suitcases, and I wondered how I was expected to maneuver the chair in snow.

Wesker immediately answered that question by coming around to my door and lifting me from the seat to carry me. Once I was exposed to the cold air I looked up to his hidden eyes, able to see the red slightly glowing due to the lack of light, and he stared back down into mine for just a few seconds. Like he had broken some rule he quickly carried me to what must have been the front of the underground residence, heading down a metal staircase that was noisy once touched by his boots. He stepped aside so that our driver could unlock the door, leading us into a foyer that had most likely been completely dark until the door opened. The natural light only helped a bit though, but the plain look of the room coupled with the concrete floor made me see that I was missing nothing.

Then the driver stepped to a door with a keypad to the right of it, its numbers ranging from one to zero, and he quickly punched in a few digits. As I heard a beep my grip tightened around Wesker's neck, and I feared what could have been behind that door. What if it was an oversized lab that was barely warmer than the air outside? The driver turned the knob, the door opening silently, and I was presented with a room that looked to be more of Wesker's taste than the home in Red Lodge.

The carpet was completely white and looked more comfortable than the black, leather couch that looked nothing like the one in Red Lodge. They were connected to make one long sofa with an armchair on one end and the other was a long section meant for one to lie on. The lamp hung from the ceiling in the shape of a white, oval bowl, and it was a piece that was simple yet undeniably expensive. A fireplace was set into the wall in front of the sofa for show, more than likely it was electric though, and a few pieces of chopped firewood inhabited it. They were probably safe from incineration though since the temperature inside was about to force me out of my coats.

Voices floated down the narrow hallway to the right, and soon I heard the sound of many footsteps approaching. The voices grew louder, one of them high, proper, and belonging to a male. "I told you that it wouldn't work! I have said it time and time again but you just refuse to listen!" A short, fat man who was balding with red, curly hair only remaining around the side and back of his head came into view. Angrily, he swiped his glasses from their perch on his nose, being followed by slightly younger man in a white, lab coat and he was the complete opposite of the tubbier man.

This man was very tall, even taller than Wesker, but his build was extremely thin and his brown hair was cut low to his scalp. He looked more like a military doctor whereas Tubby looked like he fit in at Umbrella and a Star Trek convention. "We can save this conversation for later," he hissed, turning to face us with a smile meant to make up for the spectacle his colleague had made, and if they worked for Umbrella then I knew that they wanted for most of their projects to remain a secret.

I had expected an introduction to the two, but instead Wesker only nodded to them and started to the other side of the room. The driver followed us as we headed down another hallway, its mouth opened to the side of the fireplace, and he stopped just after the middle door to the left to allow the chauffeur to open it for us. It was no Red Lodge that's for sure, and it possessed none of the nice things that my host had gone above and beyond to provide me with. The bed was a twin bed with mounds of blue comforters, and a single, puffed pillow.

The wooden dresser to the left of the bed was clearly only meant to house the necessities and not the endless supply of clothing that I had grown used to being pampered with, and the nightstand itself was plain with one drawer and a small lamp. The closet door was just that, a single door that did not get my hopes up for a grandiose walk-in, and there existed no other door to indicate that I had my own bathroom.

Disappointed, I turned my face into Wesker's chest and said, "You can sit me down on the bed." Quickly he answered my request before telling the chauffeur to get the rest of the bags.

Supporting myself with my hands I looked back up at him, watching him linger hesitantly in the doorway. "We will begin your therapy tomorrow. You should be walking just fine in two days. Until then just stretch your legs."

So this meant that I'd be waiting on him hand and foot until I could get a cup of yogurt for my fucking self and I'd have to further endure more awkward moments between the two of us. As he left me alone in the room I thought of how pathetic my feelings were and how low the mighty had fallen. Wesker had won what could have possibly been the war with Chris seeing as he had taken all that was me and stripped me completely of it. His mouth had at one time owned my, he dictated my every movement to this day, and more importantly I had been a habitat for his seed.

From my thoughts and sadness one looking from the outside in would think that I had never experienced a breakup, and well I hadn't. Especially not one that ended in a monster ripping my insides to shreds as means of gratitude for housing it. Wesker had been different, and by that I meant that I had never put much thought into what life would become outside of Red Lodge.

_You didn't want to._

It was easy to say to myself that we would part and I'd be fine, but I never analyzed my feelings for him before we went our separate ways. Then once he attempted to fling money at me in order to silence me I had realized exactly how unprepared I was for the fallout. More than anything I wanted to believe that the fondness he proclaimed to feel still existed within his infected body beneath the virus and in his heart. I needed to have some faith in the man he showed me he could be minus the power bestowed upon him by mad scientists, and I needed to believe that he was keeping me near for more than research and study.

As for the… creature, I didn't know what to believe. Did it feel at all? If I had lived would it have looked me in the eye and ignored all the love that existed under my horror. It may have been a monster but it was my child too. Did it understand "love" or dependence, or did it merely act off of impulse and the strong since of survival?

Did it wonder where its mommy was?

Surely it did not think that it lived within another being and then they just disappeared to let it claw out?

_You're worried about a confirmed monster and you should be asking can you have children after it decided to play shredder._

The voice inside of my head was right. The pregnancy was a mystery to me and when I found out that it would be a failed one my eyes should have snapped open to see that I had no reason to go insane about how I never got around to motherly duties. Right now I needed to know if I could still reproduce, not that I saw myself ever giving birth in the future, but it would be a comfort to know that I didn't lose _everything_ in my ill-fated liaison with Wesker. Still, I was human -at least I felt human- so it was only expected that I mourn the loss of a child. It would have been worse if Chris found out about it though, so the memory should have died in Cheyenne with the creature, and that way no one would know what I had brought on myself.

It was a creature, and it would remain nameless. It would remain a secret kept between me and the father, and God I hoped that another mistake like that would never come to be again.

For the rest of the day I remained in my bedroom, not hungry for food or for human interaction, and Wesker seemed to accept that. A few times he poked his head in my room to check on me, asking if I needed anything, but each time I ignored him. By the third time I had grown tired of his check-ups and I turned away from the door, silently crying into my pillow about my displacement. I wasn't just away from home, I was away from America, out in the Yukon where many man lost his life to temperatures forty below and the only person I knew was the man I had given myself to and he had deserted. That's when a confusing thought hit me: Wesker turned back after my birthday.

That meant that he chose to stay with me for a while and he only left when things became too dangerous.

So had he done it for me? How did he even know that I was in the hospital the day he liberated me from CDC custody? I didn't want to believe that he cared anymore, I just wanted for him to find out if I was a monster and to send me home. I wanted him to erase me from his memory so that I could begin putting my life back together. So I slept to forget, only to be plagued by visions of his grin, his eyes, and his words. He never would leave me alone would he?

November 4, 2001 Sunday 4:00 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Tired

"Get up." My eyes opened easily, my body's way of letting me know that I had slept for long enough, and I turned over to see Wesker sitting on my bed with a mug in his hand. When I sat up he held it out to me, but I shook my head grumpily and ruffled my already tousled hair.

With a scratchy throat I rasped, "What time is it?"

"Four." His answer was short, and I assumed that he was offended that I declined whatever the hell he tried to get me to drink. Instead of asking questions I just pulled back the sheets on my bed, watching the blond go over to the nightstand to set the mug down. With ease he picked me up bridal style, carrying me farther down the hallway to a pristine bathroom with everything the color of cream. The tub looked a lot like the one I had back in Red Lodge, and I then came to the conclusion that though the bedrooms were strictly for the purpose of sleeping, everything else in here was meant for luxury.

Wesker sat me down on the toilet while he drew my bath, knowing that I wanted for it to be hot, and I wished that I could walk on my own right now. The bathroom wasn't the best place to test out my weak limbs, and I could tell by the feeling of dead weight that it wouldn't do much good to even try at this point. I wanted to look in the mirror, something that I both avoided and did not have the opportunity to do. He said that there was no change in my eyes, but for some reason I just needed to see that for myself. Without a doubt I was infected (I was alive after all) so there had to be some symptom to prove this.

I didn't feel super strong, I didn't see any better, and I couldn't smell the faintest whiff of deer or anything. So that meant that my appearance had to have been altered in some way, shape, or form right? I waited for the tub to fill, making sure I didn't make eye contact with my helper, but a few times I felt his eyes lingering on me. When the flow of water ended he neared me, not having to say that I needed to undress, but I tried to think of a way to convince him that I could do it myself.

"You can just sit me on the side of the tub," I offered, staring down at the squared tiles on the floor. He'd seen me naked for half a year but now I had a choice in how much of me he saw, and I just didn't think it was ok for him to see me that way anymore. Our sexual relationship had ended which meant that modesty was called for, and it didn't matter if either of us cared to revisit that time because it would be a waste of time that lead to nothing anyhow.

"I won't look if you are now worried about humility Miss Redfield." To demonstrate that he was going to keep to his word he kneeled before me and set his shades on the floor next to him, closing his eyes. "I only expected you to be more adult about the situation." I flinched at his statement, actually caring that he was disappointed in me, but I tried to shrug it off as I removed my shirt and bra. To signal that I'd need help with my sweat pants I cleared my throat and allowed him to tug them down, and as my panties went with them I made sure that his eyes stayed closed.

"Okay," I whispered, and he stood to once more take me into his arms. His eyes opened to navigate his way to the bathtub but I didn't care as long as he wasn't eyeing me. He kept his head up as he lowered me into the water, and I held my breasts once my body was submerged.

With a sigh of exasperation he said, "I would have employed the help of Dr. Lister, however she is not strong enough to lift you."

When I heard mention of another woman many thoughts that I had no right to think came to mind: Was she pretty? Did she like Wesker? Did he like her? That sudden surge of anger came out of nowhere when I considered there was competition for a man that I claimed to no longer desire in my bed, but I pushed it aside as "post-break-up-feelings."

As soon as Wesker left I began washing and scrubbing myself, hating being in any kind of liquid since I was released from my stasis. It reminded me of what I had gone through, and I didn't need for any of my grief to resurface when Wesker was so close to me. There was no need for him to see my pain when he wouldn't do anything to make it all better. While waiting for him to return though I did attempt to stand, managing to take a step in the water before my knees buckled beneath my weight, and I felt completely useless as I sank back into the water. He would have to see me naked when he returned…

_Oh get over. He saw your unmentionables, got to be inside of you. Just get this all over with, interactions included so that you can get the fuck out and go home._

Could I even go home after what had happened?

Before I could think that over the bathroom door opened and Wesker entered with a towel in hand and I started to drain the water. When I reached up for him he seemed taken aback. Maybe he expected for me to take the towel and wait until all of the water had drained, but then I would be cold. He picked me carefully under my arms and handled me like I had weighed two pounds, sitting my naked body on the rug before him. With no help from him I dried myself off, needing another towel to dry my hair that was about to get cut as soon as I had the chance.

With sad eyes I looked to the mirror above the sink, and once he took notice he scooped me up into his arms once more and stood before it to allow me the chance to see myself. I looked more like Claire than I had before: the pregnancy weight was gone, the glow no longer existed, and the perks of luxurious hair had disappeared as well. My exhaustion showed as my blue eyes looked dull, and the pallor of my skin did not help my appearance. I had some eating and working out to do before I looked like I belonged with the living because this sickly look would not cut it.

Looking up to his shaded face I said, "Thank you." In my room he helped me dress, there was no awkward tension between the two of us even when his fingers brushed against my skin, and I understood that it was only an accident. A few times I was taken down memory lane like when he would look up at me from the floor, but it was different now. Dressing, not undressing, I told myself.

When he slipped a pair of socks onto my feet he asked, "Are you hungry?"

For a moment I thought, like I had to check my body for permission to speak on it. "No," I said, confused at my own admission. I had eaten the other day but now I wasn't sure why the thought of food made me vomit in my mouth. I wasn't even thirsty.

Wesker frowned; I could tell that he was going over things in his mind. Without permission he picked me up once more and carried me to the hallway the other scientists had emerged from yesterday morning, and to the left at the very end was an elevator that he boarded with me in tow. There was no button to press so I assumed there was only one floor beneath the living quarters, but maybe there was another elevator somewhere else on the floor we were headed to. When it stopped we were let out into another hallway and the left turn led us down an even longer one with automatic doors, but we passed all of those up for the one at the end. The room was about the size of the gym at the house in Red Lodge, and it looked like it as well with the room length mirror and balance bars running along the side of the wall.

It was everything that I expected for it to be. After warming up with resistance training for my legs Wesker massaged my calves for me, his face conveying that it was just business and that there would be no longing stares or "movie worthy" moment where we almost slipped back into our old ways together. I walked along the wall for a wall, holding the balance bar and taking forever to reach the end, hating that I felt so helpless in front of -oh hell I guess I could say it- my ex. After my embarrassing therapy we went into a small room meant to be both an office and a lab where my wheelchair waited, and I happily allowed Wesker to place me in it.

He took a sample of my blood and immediately prepped to look at it under a microscope, and he seemed intrigued by whatever it was that he saw. He jotted down notes every now and then in the notebook next to him, sighing heavily to himself before tossing the pen onto the table in frustration.

Almost afraid to, I asked, "What is it?"

For a moment he was silent, rubbing his temples possibly to ease a headache, and nervously I played with the bandage wrapped around my finger. "Do you feel any different at all?"

"Nope," I replied, managing to lift my legs a bit. I found it easier to be around him when I could fidget. This seemed to annoy him, as he excused himself from the room. Bored and worried about what he could have found I decided to sneak a peek at the notebook he had been taking notes in. As I stuck my hand beneath it to pick it up I felt a sharp pain and I snatched my hands back, the glint of a letter opener caught my eye and I damned my curiosity. I lifted my index finger up to my face to inspect the damage, noticing a large drop of blood gushing forth from the wound and I grimaced at the sight.

I would have some explaining to do.

Carefully, with my thumb I wiped the blood away from the wound, finding no evidence of a cut. "What the hell?" I asked myself, pulling the skin back on my finger to make sure that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. There was nothing in the place of the wound I was sure that I had obtained, and I blinked hard.

Then it hit me that I had found it, my side effect of infection. I could heal in record time. My eyes continued to scan the delicate skin of my finger and I felt dread rising up inside of me now that I knew that I was no longer going to be considered human because of this. And oh my God what kind of experiments would Wesker perform on me to test this new ability out?

The door hissed open and I quickly pretended that nothing was going on, but he seemed to notice my anxiety. "What's wrong?"

Licking my lips I placed my hands on my lap, hiding my recently injured one beneath the other. "Nothing." Shrugging off my odd behavior that I failed at hiding, he took his seat once more and I never thought once that I should tell him anything. There was only one person that I could trust here at this point and that was me. Right now I had no one on my side, not Chris and definitely not Wesker.

A/N: Sorry if it was short, my mind is so occupied by other sad and worrisome thoughts. I kept getting different populations for 2001 so I just decided not to trust sites trying to boost the popularity and tourism. Updating shouldn't be too hard because great news: until I get a job and begin traveling to see my boyfriend I WILL have time to write. I have one class every day expect when I will have to return for a night class. And one class is online so it will be easier than I anticipated; especially since I know for sure my classes will only have three tests each. But I will keep soldiering on since I have to finish and when I get stressed nothing's better than writing. So muah and thank you readers and reviewers! It wasn't on purpose!


	13. Arcanum

A/N: "Arcanum" means "secret." I just need to write right now since my love has gone for school (an hour is like an ocean between us). There may only be three chapters of them in the YT, you have to have Christmas, but also another event is coming up in the RE Timeline! And I am using Claire's CV height of 5'5. Kept getting sidetracked but it was worth it; "Jar of Hearts" is my song and I am currently attempting to learn Esperanto! O_O

Lady Snowstorm: Thank you. And Chris' reaction is going to have to be over the top, especially after the situation with the agent.

Anony: Ooh yes, Spike ftw and I love Eric but Spike more than him even! But Eric is the only reason I watch Season 4. It has gotten too silly in my eyes. I like the books but the show makes it seem like they are definitely trying to make an M rated Buffy trying to add so much humor like last Sunday's episode at the end with the leather suits and the rocket launcher. Not happening, Buffy OWNS True Blood without the raunchy sex scenes. I know why I love bad blond boys though: Billy Idol was my first celebrity crush *blushes.* Wesker will soon find out what is going on with Claire through research because I'm no scientist but blood and viruses can tell you things about changes in metabolism and such, but he would just need confirmation from Claire. I can't have him stab her, though I was going to have Claire tell him, but hey they have kind of gone through a breakup so the trust is broken as well. Being a woman Claire focuses on how she feels whereas Wesker knows that it's about logic and what he should do vs. what he may feel. A hint though, in Mayo we will see what happens when he focuses on his feelings and desires. I agree though Claire should be given sympathy. She brought it on herself yes but she is only a woman as I mentioned before and she can't act like Wesker. Some people write about what the female characters _should_ do when it should be about what they _would_ do in real life. Another reason I love Buffy so much, it's about a woman being a woman and dealing with everyday life plus a lot of extra and a lot of the time doing the not-so-smart thing. But thank you I hope everything does work out and enjoy this chapter!

Naoko Suki: Yes no angels and halos. I couldn't have it be another Red Lodge situation where she interacts with the townsfolk. Claire has got some traveling ahead of her! Have you ever been to the YT, I think it may be worse than I can write it? And yes, everything healed up after she was awakened, her surgical cut was supposed to be a scar but it disappeared completely, of course we'll see more of it when Claire experiments on herself. And yes! One early class daily=home early!

elevenzombiezz: Thank you! But old Wesker has to be back, it's business time. And you gave me my 100th review!

Olivia-B52007: You know you love Wesker for being Wesker. :P and thank you!

PurgatoryNymphe: Wesker is business first of course but he won't be hiding his intentions of testing her. Right now he's all asshole-y.

NinMetro: Thank you for taking the time to review! Make sure to get some rest though.

Reviewer: Awe thank you, I love hearing that and thank you so much! Today is turning out even better and your review definitely helps even more!

XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX: I think I'd feel the same way as her though. Probably be a little pissed at it though for killing me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. Just this fic and the OCs. I also do not own The Evil Dead.

Optio

Chapter 13: Arcanum

November 5, 2001 Monday 12:16 PM

Subject: Arti, Maritza

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Anxious

My frown would not leave anytime soon, not as long as I had to deal with that old fool Sidorov. Leon had been out looking for leads on Claire's whereabouts since she was taken, and Chris refused to leave his sister's apartment for too long. It had been half a year yet they refused to give up hope, something that I both admired and damned them all for. They were _not_ making my job any easier.

"So," I began, crossing my legs and leaning back in the black, leather armchair (everything my employer bought was black it seemed), "you feel we should just now be having this conversation?"

With a strong Russian accent he muttered, "Better late than never."

Knowing that time was against me I sent him an icy glare. "You know how fucked we are Alexei?" His response was to roll his eyes, angered that he had gone from being feared to being a grunt whose only job was to play lookout. People like me (young people) were getting to the top of the ladder that he fell off of and broke his hip once he hit rock bottom, and he would stay bitter over the fall of Soviet rule for the remaining days of his life. Good, I thought to myself.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. "If you hadn't been worried about making your bingo games you would have never missed his comings and goings. I wouldn't have had to have been active but no you lost sight of your own boss," I spat, grimacing in disgust. How dare he talk down to anyone for being young and inexperienced when he was seasoned and proving to be incompetent?

"With all due respect Miss Arti," he ground out, "may we discuss the matter at hand?"

I relaxed my jaw. "The Denver survivor is infected." His eyes grew wide at my news. "The CDC knows, and they know that our employer has custody of her. 'They' would include Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, and Leon." My gaze dropped at the mention of Leon's name, because though he was a part of my job I honestly felt for him and it was far deeper than what I had felt for any other man business or otherwise.

His innocence may have only been projected as so because frankly he was not the smartest out of the bunch and I meant that with no malice. Somehow I had allowed the line to blur and I allowed for him to slip through the cracks of my defense mechanism, yet strangely I had no regrets. I just wanted Leon and as soon as I finished this job maybe I could have him without the lies and baggage. Of course when dealing with Albert Wesker, that was a big maybe.

November 6 2001, Tuesday 6:00 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Bored

I thought I'd be ecstatic to have the use of my legs once more; however I was proven wrong by this now that I was left to wander the living quarters alone while the scientists all worked together downstairs on God knows what. They worked in silence I knew that for sure, and Wesker was with them, also something I knew without a doubt. What I didn't know was if they were working on me or something else entirely, but I hoped that Wesker hadn't let it slip about my misfortune. He'd asked me more and more questions, taken a few more pinpricks blood and tried to force any kind of reaction out of it, and honestly I thought he would have been able to figure out what I was now capable of. It wasn't super strength or speed, but it was something that I found impressive seeing as I had spent my whole life as a human.

A part of me wanted to test myself, see how severe of a wound I could handle, and I was also being a chicken about it. I stood in the kitchen, glancing around nervously back and forth, knowing that the more I did this the less amount of time I'd have to see how I'd heal.

"Come on Claire," I muttered to my reflection in the butcher knife. I held out my left arm and pursed my lips tightly, taking in a deep breath and praying that I wouldn't scream out from the pain. Quickly I swiped the blade across the inside of my arm and instantly dropped the knife once my arm burned and tingled where it was cut, but I couldn't take my eyes away. Like a sci-fi movie it sealed up before my eyes, making that one moment of pain worth it.

It was incredible.

Yet it still wasn't enough for me. With a shuddering breath I looked around once more and fell to my knees onto the tiny, black squares of the kitchen floor and took the blade up. I placed my palm against the cool tiles and took in another breath of air, knowing that I would more than likely scream regardless. Raising the blade I tried my hardest to aim for the middle of my hand so I wouldn't end up severing a finger because then I'd have a lot of explaining to do when I showed up downstairs holding a digit.

With enough strength to run the blade through my hand I drove the stainless steel down, letting out a yelp as I felt a burning pain. Breathing shallowly I stared down at the blade that had penetrated my skin and tendons, mouth agape as I tried to keep myself from making any more noise. Shakily I grabbed hold of the hilt and pulled the knife from my hand, blood covering only two inches of the tip. I was beginning to feel faint, nausea forming in the pit of my stomach as I stared down at the bleeding, self-inflicted wound. Just as my cut did before, I witnessed my new injury seal itself, closing without leaving a scar at all.

"Maybe next time it'll work…" The murmuring and footsteps cut my time to marvel short, and I jumped to my feet to grab the dishrag laying forgotten on the counter. Peeking through the doorway I saw no one and decided to hurry back to my wing, hoping that I hadn't been seen. Once I was in the bathroom down the hall from my room I found a bottle of alcohol and peroxide in the medicine cabinet. There was no way I would risk washing my blood down the sink if there was a possibility of contamination, and though I was sure many diseases were flushed down toilets and spit down the drain I knew that what I had flowing through my body was much stronger.

If there was a trace of "T" in me then I would be careful with how I disposed of my blood, and as I rubbed the blade clean with the dishrag I knew I'd have to burn it tomorrow while Wesker worked and then sterilize the knife further. While cleaning the blood from my hand I was once more hit with the morbid thought that I was no longer the same person who my brother loved, and I was what he fought against. Another number, I was "infected," someone to be put down or hooked up to machines in a government lab. While Chris almost let them take me, Wesker had saved me from such a fate where I'd be used up until they found the advantages of my infection, and then I would have been disposed of like a lab rat.

A soft knock interrupted my sulking. "Yeah?" I called, getting to my feet to grab the razor from the cabinet.

Wesker's cool voice came from the other side. "Are you all right?"

"Just about to cut my hair!" It wasn't a lie. Before he could question the closed and locked door I turned the razor on to finally cut my too-long hair. Of course I had to chop it off first with a pair of old, yet sharp scissors. Perhaps I should have donated it, but I wasn't thinking that far ahead. Deciding that I liked it somewhat long I cut off a foot so it would hang just to the bottom of my breasts, and I like to think that I did a decent job and didn't butcher it.

As I disposed of the severed locks I was reminded of how I'd managed to grow hair so long only in a few weeks. With a heavy sigh I went to the towel cabinet and grabbed a thick towel to wrap the dishrag in, hiding it and its content from Wesker who I figured still stood outside. Say what you want about the man, but you couldn't say that he was an idiot. Though we weren't interacting much and I tried not to so much as look in his direction, he knew that something was going on with me. It's why he constantly checked in on me when he thought that I wasn't paying attention and why he chose not to run extensive testing on me.

Eventually he knew that I would come to him and reveal my secret, and it's why I hated his fucking guts. Albert Wesker's true source of power was his ability to see what would come, his capability to predict the moves of those around him, and he had had plenty of time to study me in order to figure me out. I mustered up some courage and reached for the door knob while cradling my secret cargo, and leaning against the wall across from me, clad in black was my "gracious" host.

With a shrug I asked casually, "What?"

A half smirk took over the left side of his face, and he pushed himself forward from his perch to stand over me to put his imposing height to use. "Am I not allowed to check on you?" His voice was taunting, like he knew I had a secret, but he possessed no details which more than likely vexed him more than he would ever dare to show.

Now knowing that I held the power I attempted to walk past him, but his arm shot out to block my passage. His disappointment was being kept under wraps, under that mocking grin I wanted to slap off of his face, but surely I could bring it to the surface. Yet, I knew that we were past the enemy stage, and why should I act so shy now? If anything I had a right to treat him with hostility. Let me mount you any time of the day and throw you back into your everyday life, then pop up and turn your world upside down and pretend that we never had sex even though there was a child to say otherwise! My thoughts would not be verbalized though, and that angry rant would stay contained in my mind until we had that final blow up witnessed in dramatic TV shows where the character monologues their feelings.

Yeah, I so needed a monologue moment, but now wasn't the time. He on the other hand desperately needed one because he never did it; that would involve venting his innermost thoughts and feelings. Since he never unleashed them it was safe to assume that Wesker just did not have thoughts he couldn't or refused to voice for fear of being viewed as an emotional bitch-boy.

Since his arm was still barricading my way I breathed out heavily, my shoulders slumping in defeat. "What do you want?"

He gave a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest. "A status report."

"Fine," I offered, looking down at the cheap, brown carpet.

"Have you eaten yet?" He turned to the side, a signal that we could begin walking to my bedroom.

Since I wouldn't be able to go right in anyhow I took my time with a slow pace. "Not hungry." We made it to my room and he placed his hand on my back to usher me across the narrow hallway to my door, and I almost shuddered from the chill that ran up my spine.

Unaware of what his small action had caused he asked, "You will let me know?"

"If I get the munchies? Yeah sure." He drew a blond brow inward at my quick answer, definitely aware that I was not telling him something. "See ya when I see ya." Though I expected him to grab my wrist when I tried to enter my room he didn't, something that both surprised and disappointed me. It was for the best though. For the sake of my deteriorating mental health I needed for Wesker to keep his distance.

Perhaps it was best that he pretend we never shared a bed. If I could make myself believe that lie then my biggest secret could remain in the dark, and I'd be able to forget about the damage Wesker left in his wake. After locking the door I rested my back against it, staring up at the white ceiling as my vision blurred.

My heart was still undeniably broken.

November 6 2001, Tuesday 11:54 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Hungry

I had awoke to a strange yet familiar noise that couldn't be ignored once a few pains showed up in my abdomen soon after. I was fucking starving.

After assuring Wesker that I wasn't hungry for days I was finally in the refrigerator pulling out anything that wouldn't take too long to heat or assemble. To be as quiet as possible I even used the oven to heat the food, but I had to hit broil and turn it up all the way just to sate my hunger on time. Never in my life had I experienced such an intense desire- no, need of food, and as I stuffed bread into my mouth I realized how desperate I was to fill my stomach. It was obvious what was happening to me: I understood the cause of my side-effect once I recalled some Biology 101.

My metabolism had shot through the roof and my body's need to heal a pretty big injury had finally made that apparent.

The desire for beef would not be satisfied though since it appeared I lived with Goddamned vegans, or just some nerds who had never stepped near a grill in their lives. I needed something that would fill me and bread, string beans, mashed potatoes, and spaghetti weren't enough. The turkey sandwich only made my appetite for meat even worse, and I would even go as far as to eat a whole damned cow if one showed up outside.

"Hungry I see."

My head snapped around to see Wesker standing just at the kitchen threshold, arms folded over his chest and the moonlight streaming through the window made the pallor of his skin stand out, his hair looking platinum under the natural light. I was going to tell him as soon as I was done gorging myself, knowing that food gnomes was not a good enough excuse for the refrigerator missing half the contents that were present the night before. With a frown he looked to the lit oven and saw the paper plate inside.

"How many plates have you had?" he asked, his glare returning to me.

In embarrassment I looked down to the remaining half of my sandwich and muttered, "Four." I had been so quick to eat that I was sitting at the stool at the counter, knowing that I would be spotted easily but I didn't care because I knew that eventually he would hear me rummaging through the 'fridge.

The sound of his boots against the tiled floor made me feel uneasy; he was more than likely about to inspect me. It irked me when he would study me like that, and it bothered me even more so that I was being viewed as a science project rather than a young woman. Yes, I wanted him to appreciate the baby-weight boobs before they completely disappeared and no, I didn't want to resume a physical relationship with him but it wouldn't hurt to have a man treat me like I possessed a vagina.

Fed up with his staring I turned to him angrily, "What?"

Taking a step back and tilting his head up he whispered to himself, "You've lost weight."

Ignoring my possibly burning food in the oven I stood up from my stool and attempted to pinch some fat to show him otherwise. I got nothing. "Since you last saw me?" I asked, staring down at my now exposed stomach. Oh dear.

He was nice enough to let me finish my last plate and even offered to get one of the other scientists to make a run to the store for some more substantial food for me, though I'd have to wait until tomorrow… well later today. After asking me fifty more time if I felt any different he finally gave up and took a seat across from me. The scale had informed me that I was 109 pounds, a bit small for my size.

"You're underweight," Wesker confirmed. "Your frame has changed since your pregnancy which would mean your minimum weight goes from 112 to at least 116."

Incredulously I asked, "So I went from a healthy plump weight to being underweight in a day?" I needed to get to a mirror but I was afraid of what I looked like. "How can I slow my metabolism down?" However I realized that if I did this then my side effect would cease to be.

Like a doctor writing a simple prescription he scribbled something on the clipboard and said evenly, "Methadone."

"_What_?" I screamed, and I saw his eyebrows rise at the increased volume of my voice.

"Dear heart I can find a better way. Until then you need a new diet. I assume steroids are out of the question?" I saw a smirk appear, but I wasn't laughing at this suggestion.

As I chewed on my lip I realized that until I stabbed myself through the hand I hadn't been hungry, so maybe this would only happen when I needed to heal, and I hoped to God that this was so. That meant no getting hurt. Yeah right, I was too good at that.

"An increased metabolism," the blonde began, spinning his chair in the other direction, "could cause certain side effects."

Lowering my head I asked, "Like what?"

"Palpitations, anxiety, and interference with your menstrual cycle. Hair loss, heat intolerance, and insomnia… just to name a few." he added, turning to face me again. So I went from being even curvier to a stick, and I could go from a head of hair to being bald?

I just couldn't win could I?

Now that that talk had been had, I finally realized that just like the night he showed up in my house I was in a pair of underwear albeit underwear that covered my ass. My thighs did look quite skinny, and I thought to myself, No Claire the mirror will not be your friend for a while.

"Speaking of menstrual cycle," I began, but stopped to let him fill in the blanks himself.

For a moment he looked thoughtful. "We will have to see about that. As for your ability to reproduce… Dr. Seaborne was a gynecologist." As he scribbled more on the clipboard he muttered, "I will schedule something with him."

It was hard to hide my disappointment; I really only cared to have one of the men living here knowing what my unmentionables looked like. "Who is Seaborne?"

"The taller one," he answered absentmindedly, and I could tell that he was deep in thought. I was happy to know he wasn't the sweaty, little fat one, and I was even more relieved that Dr. Lister wasn't the OBYGN of the building. I just didn't want another woman seeing me like that, especially if I hadn't even seen her around here.

"Are we done here?" I asked, my eyes refusing to land on his face.

"Yes." I hopped down from the examination table and started for the automatic door. "And Claire?" His interruption of my exit stopped me dead in my tracks, my body growing warm like I had been caught in a lie. "Do tell me if you experience other side effects?" Though it was a question the tone he used said that he knew what was happening, but I chose not to give myself up since more than likely it would be discovered during the more invasive and strenuous physicals in the coming days.

Something in me wanted for him to sweat and figure it out. So with a smile I said to the door, "Sure," and left him alone in the room, hearing a single, soft laugh.

November 7 2001, Wednesday 8:42 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Uncomfortable

It wasn't ever a pleasant experience to have sharp, metal objects shoved up into you, and as I recalled the horrors of my first pap smear I felt somewhat violated. Yes, this had been my first since I never had a reason to have one before: I wasn't sexually active until Wesker and I mixed business with pleasure, and I had never taken birth control. I was glad to know though from Dr. Seaborne that the pill could actually be behind abnormal pap smear results and even cervical dysplasia, but did I actually need to know this since I wasn't going to be having sex for like… EVER? The doctor had been nice though, telling me he wasn't going to lie about how it felt and that I was lucky Wesker hadn't ordered for a biopsy. He did a sonogram to determine if there was anything else to be worried about in my belly and to ensure me that everything was intact.

When I asked about my cycle he just said, "We'll have to wait and see. Given your 'condition' I can't say what is normal for you and what's not. I just know that from what I've seen today you look healthy. There's no scarring or anything that would inhibit you from carrying and delivering a child."

The relief that I felt couldn't be described, only the way I dramatically grabbed at my heart and exhaled could somewhat properly display my elation. No I hadn't changed my mind and had a revelation about children, but it was just good to know that of all of the things Wesker had taken: my innocence, my humanity, and my brother, he didn't take one of the things that made me a woman.

"Thank you so much Dr. Seaborne," I said softly, getting up to leave the lab. He only gave a small smile and nodded at me. Since Wesker had work to do I decided to go upstairs and see what was on television, finding an assortment of DVDs stashed in the entertainment system. So since I was still hungry I thought it best to prepare the steaks one of the scientists had bought this morning, and I had four piled on a plate before me as looked for some horror movies. A few cheesy zombie flicks were on with lots of sex and women who dared to run through the woods with one boob popping out of a terry cloth robe.

Shaking my head at the fast, door-opening, stair-climbing zombies I thought of how lucky I had actually been to endure an outbreak of idiots that traveled a mile an hour. However, one bite was all it took, which actually gave them the advantage, and honestly after that one bite it probably was better to just lie there and let the zombie finish his meal in peace. I told myself to concentrate on this movie made for the entertainment of those who never experienced an actual outbreak, namely, for the people who still thought that Raccoon City was like Chernobyl number two. The people who had no relatives there and believed that there was a mass evacuation…

By the time the movie finished I was done eating my steaks and beginning to feel stuffed as I should have, and since it wasn't hard to lose weight from this point out I got a huge bowl of ice cream with hot fudge and to make it seem special I went ahead and threw a banana and a few cherries in. Now I was watching the Evil Dead movie that was in the DVD player already, too lazy to turn down the volume as Cheryl got raped by a bunch of limbs and vines.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, remembering my gyno appointment this morning. "Who the fuck am I kidding? Cheryl, you got it worse."

"What are you watching?"

At Wesker's tone of disgust I turned around and said, "Evil Dead." The grimace on his face was priceless, and I only shrugged and ate another spoonful of ice cream. "You were like, twenty-one when this came out how do you not know this movie?"

Walking around the couch, still frowning at the screen he said, "Because a movie about a woman being raped by the foliage isn't exactly proper for _anyone_." Finally tearing his eyes away from the frightened woman on the TV, he asked, "Are you still hungry?"

"Just being a pig now," I replied, shaking my head at my own greed.

"What else have you eaten?" He asked with his eyes once more fixed on the scene of a horrified Cheryl struggling to find the correct key to enter the cabin.

Like we were discussing the weather I replied, "Four steaks."

Wesker sat down on the other end of the couch, almost like I'd bite if he were too close. "You look better today."

Too into the movie I barely showed any emotion as I muttered, "I should be after eating a few pounds of food and drinking every liquid in sight." I guess his comment was meant to sound like a compliment in "Wesker-speak," but I didn't want to look into it too much. Fool me once: shame on me, fool me twice: well I'm just a dumbass then right? "When are we having our little appointment?"

Getting to his feet he said, "I'll allow you to finish up. Meet me downstairs in my office when you are done."

To acknowledge his instructions I nodded and said, "Okey-doke." Still I had no idea what more he could want from me unless he was trying to figure out how to lower my metabolism. When I walked into his office he was leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped like he had been expecting me at that exact moment, but I ignored his attitude and stood before him.

"Present," I announced, placing my hands on my hips.

Without hesitation he asked, "Is there something you want to tell me Claire?" The use of my name surprised me, but it wasn't the first time he had done it so I shrugged it off.

Shaking my head I asked, "What could I possibly have to tell you?"

"As a scientist," he began abruptly, "I do understand the consequences of certain things, such as a severely high metabolism. Dear heart, not all are bad." Without a doubt he knew what I was hiding, yet I decided to play dumb until he spat out what he thought. "I was going to stab you…"

My eyes shot open, a reaction that brought a grin to his face, but I didn't think that this was funny at all. "I… what do you mean?"

"What an actress." He mockingly clapped his hands at my performance, his smirk not leaving even as I stood there and lied through my teeth. "Rapid healing is something worth being mentioned Miss Redfield."

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach, and I took a seat in the chair across from him, an action that made his smile grow even wider. "What was I supposed to think?"

Demandingly he said, "Elaborate."

Throwing my hands out I cried, "You would have tried to turn me into your science project!" As if my claim had hurt his feelings he raised an eyebrow, his smirk shrinking away until his mouth was nothing but a straight line. "Wesker you're supposed to be fixing me and so far you're just monitoring me-"

Staring down at a pile of notes on his table he said barely above a whisper, "How do you propose that I 'fix' you when I have no idea what it is I am meant to fix?" He turned to look at me once more, probably loving my confusion and the fact that I felt like an ass right about now. "Miss Redfield, I wish that you would have come to me with this information. Have you experimented with it?"

I let out a sigh, "Yes." He nodded for me to continue, so I might as well have given him the full account. "The day we began my therapy. I… cut my finger on your letter opener. Then after I could walk again I cut myself on the arm." Hesitantly I added, "Then I stabbed myself in the hand. All wounds healed."

"And you were not hungry until that night?" His attention was once more turned on his clipboard, scribbling fervently, probably excited about the possibilities of my virus and not really thinking about me as a person.

Sadly, I gave a nod and said, "Correct." A chill came over me and I asked, "You're not going to test that are you?"

His pen stopped its movement at my inquiry, his eyes still on the paper, and through his shades I witnessed him blink. "I will take your word for it." The scribbling resumed while I was left to ponder what that meant exactly. Usually he was willing to do whatever it took to figure out the inner workings of things, but today he had given me a pass without an explanation. Why would he take my word for it when I had lied to him for days, unless he cared still?

"Wesker," I began, nearing his desk to remove the letter opener from his pencil holder. Staring up at me, he looked confused, and I lowered my left arm so he could see it, revealing the inside to him. With a deep breath I plunged the blade into my flesh, dragging it up my arm to increase the length of the incision in the process exposing tissue and blood. The muscle should have been ruined I thought to myself as I pulled the blade out, and just as easily as it had been made, the cut sealed from the inside just as before until finally my skin mended together like I had never made a crude slit in the first place. When the blond didn't speak I said loudly, "It hurts when I do it. The healing though, feels refreshing, like my body just took in the cleanest air ever. It's like… cool, spring water or some shit," I almost exclaimed, only now trying to find a way to describe the healing.

It was like relief, so much better than the endorphins a cutter experiences, and it was intoxicating which was perhaps my body's new way of enduring pain received. His mouth parted just a millimeter, like he was willing to break down and praise my ability, but he kept his composure and wrote a few more notes. He then snatched a tissue from the box in front of him and took the letter opener from my hand, soon after offering me one to wipe away the remaining blood.

His refusal to harm me in order to gain a desired result had annoyingly poked at my heart rather than touch it, making me blurt out an embarrassing question. "Is that fondness still there?" Wishing I hadn't said anything I stepped back and fell back into my seat, frowning at my stupidity. I'd told myself it didn't matter anymore, yet his actions were questionable from day one of me being here, like how he didn't put me through insane tests just to see what I was capable of. Instead he treated me like a houseguest.

"I think we should concentrate on your condition Miss Redfield." He wouldn't look at me as he said this, and I took in a deep breath to push back the tears attempting to fill my eyes. There was something painful about rejection, and it was worse for a woman than a man: an ego could be repaired by any new woman, but rejection would force a woman to rethink herself as a person and the possible reasons why she was turned away are forever haunting.

"I understand," I lied, getting up from the chair. Then as I left the room I felt another sting: he didn't try to stop me.

November 8 2001, Thursday 3:28 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Famished

I had made myself a few burgers, stuffing them with pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, bacon, cheese, and lots of mayonnaise. Oh how fattening, but that wasn't the case for me I thought happily, and I decided to throw some jalapeños on my sandwiches as well. "Oh burger, how I love you," I professed before taking a huge bite from my midnight meal. Something told me to turn around, a feeling that I listened to, and mid-bite I was face-to-face with a skinny, pale woman with dark, brown hair that bordered on black. She looked confused and perhaps a bit disgusted so I assumed that she was the one responsible for the 'fridge barely having any meat when I first arrived. Mouth full of food I mumbled, "Hi."

Nervously she muttered, "Sorry," turning to leave, and before I could tell her to stay she was gone. The only other female in the house and she was a bitch. Then again a woman indulging six burgers at three in the morning could be an intimidating sight I suppose, but I wasn't going to bite her. Then again maybe it had to do with my attire: a white, wife beater with no bra, and a pair of red and black boy short underwear.

It would explain why she apologized.

"Now what are you eating?" I hadn't seen Wesker since I was in his office, and now he was nearing me like what happened today actually didn't happen.

Concentrating on my food more than I was him I replied, "Burgers."

"More red meat?"

Though I wanted to ignore him and finish eating I knew that I couldn't since he wouldn't go away anyhow. "It fills me up." I heard him pull out the stool next to me, causing me to audibly groan when I had been hoping that the worst reaction he'd get out of me would be me rolling my eyes. Why the hell did he have to haunt me?

"Were you unable to sleep?" he asked, pretending that he could not sense my vexation.

As I picked up my second burger I said, "Yep, unable to eat right about now." Most of the time he would chuckle at me, mocking my attempts to insult him, but tonight he did no such thing, instead he fell silent. He let me eat without bothering me any further about how I was feeling, he just stared straight ahead at the wall just above the sink, and I was happy to not feel his eyes on the side of my face. Though unnerving, the quiet between us was welcomed and enjoyed by me, and since he was never a huge talker I assumed that Wesker preferred me stuffing my mouth to me running it.

He watched me clean up, but when I moved to leave he stopped me with the truth. "You require some form of closure."

Rather than turn to face his back I just stayed there facing the doorway, staring down at the floor. "But?"

"I am unable to supply it."

Feeling a knot form in my chest I closed my eyes tightly, holding my breath. "Unable or unwilling?"

I heard him near me, could feel the tickle of his breath on my ear, and his shadow cast over me, towering my own as they stood one in front of the other below us. "I assure you Miss Redfield. Unable."

Fighting the urge to turn towards him, I attempted to walk away, but I felt his arms snake around my stomach, holding me against him. It was a grip that could be easily broken, something that conveyed to me that I could choose to leave his embrace if I decided. Something had stolen the use of my legs though, and I laid my head back against his chest as a small sob broke through me. "Why did this happen to me? Is being a Redfield synonymous with bad luck?"

"When you differ from billions in the world dear heart you should not feel shame." It wasn't a declaration of his feelings for me, and I understood what his statement translated into: biologically speaking I was superior in some fashion to have carried his child, a superior being's child. Though the result was undesired and uncontrollable it had been done, and of all the women he had conquered I was the only one to bear a child by him while I was nothing but a human.

Remembering the hours that led up to my death- no murder, I said in a low voice, "But I should when I create a monster." Easily I slipped from his hold, leaving him at the kitchen threshold while I made my way to my bedroom. I locked the door behind me, barring him from entry if he chose to come after me, and I immediately slipped into my bed. I turned off the lamp next to my bed, letting darkness settle upon my room, and if Wesker did enter I wouldn't have to see him. Suddenly I was sleepy, or maybe I had mentally exhausted myself after the long day, and with what had happened should I have fought the drowsiness? No, because I would rather fight demons in my sleep than deal with the ones of my reality.

In my sleep it was all so different, Wesker was different, and I was different. But it was never more frightening than what I had lived through while I was awake, and I'd take an evilly grinning madman any day over one who had confused himself so badly that he couldn't answer a question asked by woman he probably considered a child. Because Dream Wesker was more similar to the old Wesker and old Wesker existed before I ever accepted his offer and helped him.

_You know what his refusal to answer means._

It meant that he was still fond of his "dear heart."

A/N: I wanted two more pages but not trying to push it. I will have to re-proofread. I hope you enjoyed the Claire/Wesker awkwardness and review!


	14. Phasma Phasmatis

A/N: "Phasma Phasmatis" means "ghost." Forgive me for the wait; I have had to take the time to perform a true and unbiased evaluation of my mental state and irrational actions/reactions. There is a strong possibility that I suffer from severe Bipolar Disorder and my best friend, partner, and even my mother agree. I can no longer blame it on hormones and BC. With the badness going on with my partner and me… the "realistic" talk we had… everything I write from Claire's view about her and Wesker's "break-up" comes from the deepest chamber in my heart. It's real: the desperation, the hope, and the disappointment in her own self and him. This chapter is dedicated to the women who've suffered true heart break, I'd rather be a woman thinking with my heart, than a man seeking logic until he hits that point in his life where he begins to think with his heart, and by then it's too late. You only get one soul mate.

Lady Snowstorm: Thankfully it's only after she heals from something big.

NinMetro: Yes I LOVE Buffy. SMG why did you have to go?

Naoko Suki: Yeah Maritza is a traitor sadly. Claire and Wesker are so complicated but I loved writing the part where she got busted, I wonder if she'll learn. Hmmm. I guess it's good the YT will be left behind soon then.

elevenzombiezz: There will always be some awkwardness I think between these two; it is Wesker after all lol.

under-the-wallflower: Oh how I need a dream like that. Thank you so much I'm glad you enjoy it and I promise there is some romance coming, not in this chapter but next. I honestly wrote that upcoming romance part a while ago, in the middle of the night I just had to.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. Just this fic and the OCs.

Optio

Chapter 14: Phasma Phasmatis

November 17, 2001 Saturday 3:46 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Bored

When I say this was like Red Lodge redone I wasn't fucking joking. At least in Red Lodge I could go places, though they were boring places I could still travel to and fro without worrying about being stranded and freezing to death. Honestly I hadn't been outside since I was carried from the car into this place, and it wasn't any fun that I could recall the last time my feet touched the ground outside. It was the day I had fallen ill.

Wesker must have believed that he was doing me a favor by allowing me to do some yoga in the gym, but it was less interesting than watching paint dry if that were even possible. I stretched my calves to cool down and hopped to leave, no longer wanting to be this close to him. I passed by his office without glancing at the door, without hesitating to wonder what he was doing, and I made my way to the elevator in silence. Upstairs I dressed down, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and some boy shorts, which was the only style of underwear I had been supplied with. Modesty was not on my list of things to worry about lately, but the fact that I hadn't been hungry since I got my weight up dampened my plan to pig out on muffins and watch SpongeBob.

I just couldn't eat when I was healed up, and it was honestly annoying but I wasn't going to hurt myself just so I'd eat. Plus, I got a high running temperature when I was recuperating and it made me uncomfortable in my own skin.

So I watched television, bored as all hell and unable to think of anything better to… Wait a minute I was Claire Redfield, and if there was one thing I did it was snoop, according to Chris. He brought it on himself, I thought to myself as I headed for the hallway containing the scientist' rooms, and I had no idea which one belonged to Wesker but I'd figure it out. I hoped that they would follow their usual patterns of only emerging for lunch or late at night, so that left me with plenty of time. The first room I entered had pictures on the nightstand, immediately telling me that it did not belong to Wesker, so I tried the room across the hall, but the colors were green and blue.

That was definitely not Wesker's décor, so I looked to the last door on the right, skipping over the other one completely. I looked in at a room quite similar to the one in he had in Red Lodge and to my surprise it wasn't locked. Black sheets and a dark colored wooden armoire was the dead giveaway I needed. The sense of déjà vu was strong as I neared the bed, hesitantly taking a seat on the edge while I remembered the days we spent together in Montana as a quiet couple. For a while it was nice being the talk of the town, attending events together like we were really engaged, and for a change that gave me a taste of normalcy.

I was Sara Ivanov, the daughter of Russian immigrants, and I was someone's chosen mate. I was the mystery of Red Lodge and the envy as well, two things that I never got to be in real life, but Wesker had managed to make that real for me. My _fond_ thoughts of him had come out of nowhere, but did I really want to stop the reminiscing. Some part of me was not done with Wesker and the relationship we had in Red Lodge, and though I told myself so many times that I didn't want to resume a physical relationship with him it seemed that I had only been trying to convince myself.

_The first thing you did when you woke up and saw him was hug him, and what you wanted to do next…_

Carefully I scooted up on the bed, laying my head on one of the silk wrapped pillows and I inhaled his scent. Somehow I felt closer to him, immersed in him, and now I could finally tell myself how I really felt now that the physical aspect of our relationship ceased to be: I wanted that again. Maybe it had to do with my virus; as soon as I woke up I felt that ache, but that just seemed ridiculous to want to blame my desire on that. Before I knew it I was getting comfortable, even though I was having second thoughts about everything I managed to get myself sleepy with my slow inhaling and exhaling. "Get up Claire," I muttered to myself, jumping up once I felt tears spring into my eyes, and I didn't want them to stain his pillow.

My initial intention of snooping around was forgotten as I got to my feet and left the bedroom. In an effort to pass the time I turned on the television, finding that I was a glutton for punishment by watching a heart-breaking movie where the man decides to pursue his own selfish wants rather than to continue his long relationship with a woman who idiotically gave up her myriad of opportunities in other men for the chance to chase what she thought was true love with him. He wanted to experience more while she was ready to throw away the time of experimenting. It wasn't commercial that's for sure, yet it definitely hit home with me. I had given myself to Wesker when I had so many other opportunities ahead of me with men who hadn't committed so many murders that the human life equates to that of a fly in his eyes.

Wesker was as selfish as that man, yet a part of me wanted to believe that he was sparing my feelings by quitting our relationship cold turkey, but I needed the closure he professed that he was unable to supply. Either he needed to tell me that he wanted me or he didn't so I could come to terms with the outcome of our fling and move on. If he wanted me but could not act on his desire, then it would hurt but I'd know, and if he said he didn't want me at all I'd feel like I was dying, but then I could work on getting over it. If I hadn't gotten pregnant, hadn't been in a stasis for six months, then I know that I could have been done with it.

Long after the movie had ended I cried to myself on the couch, deciding to lie on my side and hoping that I could manage a nap. With the thought that I would always be thrown such luck in my life I shut my eyes, refusing to open them, and my tired mind shut me off from the world.

November 17, 2001 Saturday Time Unknown

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Tired

Sensing that there was now a silence in the air that didn't exist before, I opened my eyes and sat up to find that I was still in the den, except now it was shrouded in darkness. The television had been turned off, and a tall, dark figure stood to the left of the couch with his arms folded.

"Maybe you should go to bed." The deep voice chilled me to the bone, the cold tone like a knife in my heart, and how I wished that the virus that infected me could heal me emotionally as well as physically.

He started to walk away but I shot up from my seat and said, "Wesker wait." Standing still as a statue, he tilted his head downward to show me that I had his attention. "This has to end," I supplied vaguely. "I can't continue to be around you without closure."

Though it was dark I could tell that his eyes were on the floor, and as he inhaled his chest rose visibly, and I dared to take a step towards him. In the dark his eyes were aglow behind his shades, and I felt him take my right hand in his own, lifting it to his mouth so that he could kiss my knuckles. "Dear heart," my breath caught in my throat, "it is not realistic and I can only permit myself to speak the truth."

Snatching my hand away I demanded, "You don't want me?" Silence weighed heavily in the air as he chose not to answer, which could easily negate the point that he was trying to thrust onto me just a moment before. "I don't give a fuck about realism, I asked what you _wanted_."

"It is not what I want, but what needs to be done."

Desperate, I threw myself at his chest, standing up on the tips of my toes to reach his lips with my own, but he took hold of my arms firmly and held me back. Like a baby I began to cry, anxiety making me bounce up and down to release the extra energy that would have made my legs shake like jello in an earthquake. I found no point in pushing against his grip; he was too strong, and the light of his eyes disappeared so I assumed that he shut them. Even when I tried to pull away though, he wouldn't release me from his hold, and I sniffled pathetically when he finally released his grip.

Dejected and disappointed, I fled from his sight, locking myself in my room though I knew that he would not come for me, knowledge that made the pain of my rejection even worse. I just needed to hear it though, that he had no desire for me, and until that day I would be stuck in a sort of emotional limbo and haunted by my own personal ghost. How cruel.

Yet had I really said that he didn't want me? Had I really been so cliché and so blunt when our relationship was more complicated than that? I actually had the nerve to pretend like it was an open and shut case of, "Let's see other people." I slid down the surface of my door, giving a sad laugh at what I had been reduced to, willing to embarrass myself all for the acceptance of a man I was supposed to hate. Then again there was no true logic as to why I should _hate_ Wesker.

Sure he had slapped me around in an attempt to hurt my brother yet had he truly done anything that I should take personally? We had been enemies in that instance, both fighting for different things: he for a virus, and I for freedom. Now bear with me despite how pitiful I sound trying to justify his actions, but I had no _actual_ reason to hate him. He didn't turn me into a zombie and he had saved my life twice in one day by rescuing me from the CDC and then by infecting me. Even in my last day in Red Lodge, he saved my life rather than run off.

Was this the reason that I had become open to him and the idea of having Wesker as a sexual partner? That could very well be the case but it was no use in evaluating my choices now that the honeymoon was over, and now that he had somehow become obsessed with doing what should be done over what he wanted.

Rather than confine myself to my room I peeked out of my door to make sure he was not hiding in the shadows, and I made my way to the kitchen. It was strange how I came here when I wasn't even hungry, and I just completely ignored the living room that was meant for mental rest. Instead I sat at the counter on one of the stools, finding that it was the lighting of the kitchen that I enjoyed. At night it felt like I was bathed in moonlight, and I had to admit that I missed feeling free, so I took this as a substitute. The glass of the bulb over the sink had a blue tint to it, not too dim and not too bright and it created the illusion that I was outside.

Ha, if I stepped outside I'd probably freeze to death, if that was even possible, but I wasn't willing to risk any extremities just to test my accelerated healing and my body's reaction to extreme cold. No, I needed to keep my ass planted in this stool and pretend that I had the choice to go stand outside and think.

That feeling to turn around again crept up on me, and I knew who to expect. "Dr. Lister?" The mousy, little scientist immediately turned her gaze to the floor, her head bowed in what was possibly intimidation, something I didn't quite understand.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked, turning to leave, but I jumped down from my stool.

"No!" The volume of my voice surprised me while it frightened her, but she listened and chose to stay put. "This is your house," I said softly, getting back onto the stool. As I watched her make her way to the refrigerator she pulled her blue, silk robe tightly around her small frame like she was showing too much skin. The damned thing reached her ankles for Christ's sake.

As she pulled out the bag of bread and a slice of cheese she said shyly, "But you're his guest." For a moment I thought about that and what she could have been inferring, but as she handled the portable, electric grill I stayed quiet, not needing her to drop it and wake everyone up. Why was she so… strange?

While she waited patiently before the grill I gave a sigh and gave in, damn that natural inquisitiveness of women! "A guest isn't put before your needs."

Then she spoke some barely audible words, possibly because she knew that she would sound out of line. "Only when you're Wesker's guest."

Losing my patience with her hints I snapped, "Why does it matter _whose_ guest I am?" I saw her small body flinch, and I angrily went over to the wall to flick on the lights, but she didn't even look back at me then.

"It's just," she began, finally turning around to face me, "it's his house." She looked young, but her posture and weight would make you think otherwise if you couldn't see her face. Her brown hair was a tangled, wavy mess that reached her waist, not because she liked it long but more than likely because she was too preoccupied with work to care about her appearance. She certainly had potential, a thought that ripped through my mind wielding razors, and now the seeds of doubt would be planted. There was no way Wesker ever had anything with her, she lacked confidence outside of a lab filled with cylinders and microscopes, and she was afraid to speak her mind apparently.

Unless he was into weak women, then what would that say about me exactly?

With a huff I turned my attention back to the sink ahead of me across the counter, "Like I said it's your house."

As she reached for the cabinet to her left for a plate she replied, "No, it's _his_ house."

I could tell that she wanted to convey an attitude but was too weak and afraid to do so, so I threw my glare onto her, "I bet he's only been here like three times."

"Actually," she got a spatula from a drawer and removed her grilled cheese sandwich, letting it slide onto her saucer, "he's been here once before for a total of three minutes." With a frown she took a seat across from me, "At least I think it was him."

Furrowing my brow I asked, "You've never seen him before now?"

"Oh I'm sure it was his shadow," she offered, taking a rather large bite from her meatless (ugh) sandwich. I had become such a carnivore.

Poking the countertop excitedly, I asked, "So it's _his_ house but he barely comes here, whereas you and the other two are here daily?"

With a shrug she took another bite of her sandwich. "I thought you would know such things."

At her assumption my eyes narrowed and I realized that I probably should have let her go to bed hungry. "Why would I know?" I continued to play into it, hoping she could tell me something that I didn't know about Wesker, but if I dug too deep I'd end up learning something that would hurt me. I was prepared for the worst.

"I just thought that you were his…" She trailed off, refusing to look up at me out of embarrassment. It never was an easy thing to be completely wrong about people and their relationship status; it actually made you look quite foolish. "Especially since he's working so hard to help you."

My mouth opened but no words left it, and with a shrug Dr. Lister continued to eat her snack in silence. My presence was now being ignored by her, something that did not really bother me. I had now resolved to do what I had originally intended to do, and maybe I'd find something worth the trouble I'd most likely get myself into.

November 17, 2001 Saturday 11:03 PM

Subject: Redfield, Chris

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Suspicious

It was never in me to question the intentions of my sister, not when she had fought for the good side before. I had gone through her closet though, looking at price tag after price tag, gown after gown that ranged in the area of five hundred dollars, and I began to ask myself if I could continue to be willfully blind. My sister couldn't afford these things unless she was stripping, and the state of denial that I was willing to reach was so strong that I almost accepted that as an excuse. Why would a stripper need fancy gowns? Why would a stripper have no "outfits" for the job?

Vera Wang, Prada, Versace… Never had my sister shown an interest in these things, and these clothes had never been worn. Something within me screamed that Wesker hadn't kidnapped Claire, but that she went with him of her own volition.

That is the reason I sat here now, waiting in my car as rain beat down from every direction, and why I was willing to place just a little more faith in the man who failed me last time. The passenger door opened, the sound of rain grew louder and a few drops made it inside before my contact got in and slammed the door shut behind him. As he wiped rainwater from his eyes I inhaled deeply, clenching my teeth in what was possibly anger, but why I would be angry was a mystery to me. After all, Sergei had done what he could to get rid of Wesker.

"I am surprised that you called for me," he said loudly, a smirk settling on his face. Whatever feeling Jill had about him, so did I, but his hatred for Wesker rivaled my own, and right now I was willing to try everything if it meant getting my sister back home where she belonged. It didn't matter if she had betrayed me; I was sure that she had a perfectly good reason for doing what she did and we would figure it out when I got her back.

Gripping the wheel tightly I ground out, "Wesker has my sister."

I could see that he wanted to laugh, but despite it not being in a mocking way that he wished to do it, he chose not to. "We have yet to find Albert." His gaze was on the windshield, watching the water stream downward after hitting the glass in small droplets, and for a moment he looked satisfied. "What do you propose we do?"

"Find him." My response was final, short, and sweetly to the point. The man had taken my comrades from me and now he had taken my sister, and though I hated to think of it in that way he could have been the one to have taken her in the "Biblical sense" as well. Everything seemed to be falling into place now, I mean all I had was time to think about these things, and it began to make sense.

At my words Sergei gave a small chuckle, his shoulders rising visibly, and he seemed quite constrained in my car. The man was massive, and his imposing height did in fact intimidate me just a bit with help from his creepy scar. "He will give himself away sooner or later comrade." Before I could argue with him he added, "Time is important to you yes, but he will not be able to stay low for much longer. Something is happening soon and he will lead us to him."

And I believed him. What mattered to me though was finding Claire and receiving an answer. Soon enough I would have the truth, and I prayed to God that this was all just a huge misunderstanding.

November 18, 2001 Sunday 1:06 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Anxious

To make sure I wouldn't get caught I waited until after the scientists' lunch break and after Wesker gave me the results of some more blood work. Now I would have until tonight if chose to move at a snail's pace, but I had a feeling that what I was looking for was hidden in the nightstand anyhow. Who would dare sneak through Wesker's personal things? With shaking hands I slid the drawer open, finding a single book that looked like a diary of some sort set in the middle of its space like he wanted for me to find it. It was old fashioned, black and leather with a latch on the side.

As I picked it up I noticed that it wasn't too old, and upon opening it to the first page I found that the first recorded date was April 29, 2001… These were notes on the child we had conceived, and I understood very little with so much scientific jargon. So was this a diary or a workbook? With a frown I turned the page, and where there should have been more of his neat cursive there was instead a picture wedged between the pages. I nearly dropped the journal, deciding that I should take a seat on the side of the bed.

I had never seen "it" before except through sonogram, and how I wished that it remained that way. Its eyes were orange, angrier than its father's somehow, its form unnatural of a perfectly formed child, and its teeth were bared even in death. Behind the picture was a short description of what the photo contained.

_Physical Appearance: Embryonic_

_Notable Attributes: Over-extended coccyx, two full rows of teeth top and bottom, eye color_

_Sex: None_

_Eyes: Orange_

_Hair: Bald_

_Length: 6''_

_Weight: 3lbs 4oz_

_Project Name:_

Nothing had been written for a name, something that struck me as odd since Umbrella employees dubbed everything with an alphabet and number. The fact that he hadn't even put "none" next to the word made me believe that he simply couldn't label his offspring like it was a failed experiment, giving me a strange sensation within that made me shake from the inside out. He had some feelings for it despite showing me that he did not.

The next page mentioned me…

_I watched her die quietly; a part of her still apparently hoping that somehow our offspring would become miraculously normal and demand a proper birth. Strangely enough I wished for the same, however, my reason for it was for her wellbeing, not the child's. There has been no desire within me as of yet to father children, and the outcome of this failed pregnancy shall in no way affect my demeanor. However, one part shall I say will not affect me._

_I have placed Claire Redfield in the stasis tank with the hope that she will soon be revived by William Birkin's untested virus. Although the risk could have been great I knew that I could not infect her with my own when it had been made for me and only me. Though I have seen no changes in vitals or brain activity I have resolved to continue to keep faith in my old colleague's efforts, knowing Will this could all be a part of the rehabilitation. I shall keep vigilant watch over Miss Redfield, not leaving the Cheyenne facility until she is awake._

I turned the page, finding a photograph of me suspended in that liquid I awoke in, arms stretched out beside me, and there was a look of calm over my face. Well what did I expect, I was dead?

The next few pages were about statistics and some other stuff so I skipped it, finding that he had little to write about until last night.

_Her presence here has become problematic, and my only other option would be to send her off somewhere with protection of course. She has become a distraction to my work while here, and I have been taking into account her feelings more so than I should. I have been. This could have unfavorable consequences; it should be about her needs right now, not about her wants. I must do what is necessary to help her, no matter how dangerous the methods. She will survive it._

The next paragraph held words like feelings, liaison, smart, and a reference to last night but at the sound of a man clearing his throat I stopped reading. Like a deer in headlights my eyes widened so that I was sure my eyebrows reached my hairline, and I placed the diary back in the drawer where it belonged. Shakily I got to my feet and my breath caught in my throat as a frowning Wesker stared at me angrily, his arms folded over his broad chest. I took a step to the left, although at this moment I didn't care to make my way around the bed while he stood there. If there had been a window I would have jumped from it.

"Wesker." My voice was husky with embarrassment and fear. How angry could he get right now? I didn't wish to gauge the emotion since I knew that I had committed a huge crime against him; a diary was a very personal thing, and I had crossed him more than once while here. At this point he had no reason to trust me while I had no choice but to trust him, oh how role reversal was not fun. "I… I'm sor-"

"Get out!" he bellowed, not a muscle twitching despite his obvious rage. Not challenging his order I rushed past him and to the bathroom and ran over to the sink. Still shaking in fear I gripped the porcelain sink and stared at my ghostly reflection, feeling the strong urge to throw up. His anger had frightened me more than any other Tyrant's, and his tone had ripped through me like a ragged blade. The way he looked, sounded, it all made me feel like I was the bad guy in all of this, and actually I was.

I had betrayed his trust while he had been doing what he could to help me, and I repaid him by reading his diary. Though I didn't find much it was the principle of the matter, and if I possessed anything as a Redfield it should have been a sense of principle. Perhaps he should have shipped me away, yet I would still be reminded of him every day that I woke up to isolation, but he would have been able to work in peace without his constant reminder floating around aimlessly throughout the day. If he would let me go then, I would go, and maybe then I could gain some sense of freedom. Because now we were causing more harm than good for the other, and we only served as each others' ghosts.

A/N: Ok, not too long but I think I'll make the next chapter pretty long, involving many things because I almost forgot that Wesker is about to hit the big 4-1. Anyway I hope it was good enough because about halfway into this I had to change my thought process and I'm handling things amazingly well with a "Que ra ser ra" attitude and a "Imma do me," outlook. For a second I thought of Wesker actually like shaking Claire for reading his diary but it won't work or send across a good message if he takes that route. No more bitch slapping or fighting, it was understood in CV and at the beginning of this fic but if they are to have any real relationship abuse is a no go. It's not _that_ kind of fic. Wesker's entry had more but it seemed OOC for him to write about his feelings so I deleted it. Also I got an idea for _another_ Claire/Wesker fic so be on the lookout for that, not a Claire is kidnapped deal either I got the idea from a movie I love. There will be much action there, or at least that's the plan and it won't be a long one either but it'll be long enough if I write the chapters long. Not sure when I'll post it but I intend to, unlike the other Claire/Wesker I planned and never got past writing the synopsis of ahem. Well I expect reviews!


	15. Possessio

Lady Snowstorm: She's a tough one though :)

NinMetro: I'm baaaaack. Thank you! I think I'm gonna be ok, just thought I was older than I actually am for a minute.

under-the-wallflower: Sorry for another wait! Yes I'd probably pee myself if Wesker was ever angry with me. Thank you and here it is!

Elevenzombiezz: I don't know why I always write Chris as someone who would become corrupt for the right thing. I guess I just get that vibe from him.

Naoko Suki: Yes the Redfields need to get it together. Sergei is only going to end up making things worse… maybe ;)

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you! I will try to update more frequently.

Kexy Kewl: I'm glad you like it! I only update long chapters because in the past I had the habit of submitting short ones. Also I don't update quickly so to make up for that I write longer chapters.

Olivia-B52007: That's Claire for you, and sorry I took so long.

A/N: "Possessio" means "property."

Disclaimer: I don't own RE or its characters but I own this story and its original characters.

Optio

Chapter 15: Possessio

November 18, 2001 Sunday 11:32 PM

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Fine

Those barely there outfits were beginning to drive me mad, though we were underground and supplied with necessities and luxuries such as a heater that did not change the fact that it was negative seventeen degrees outside. It felt like she had been baiting me ever since we got here by playing at demure when I knew that she could be as ravenous as any man ever could. Purposely, she paraded around in tight tops and underwear under the pretense that she never knew when I would emerge and return to our living quarters. What I would give her was that she was completely oblivious to what her prancing about half naked was stirring within me, causing me to yearn for the days where without worry I could take her when and where I wanted, but now it was something that could not be since it was obvious that though a failed attempt it would be, I could father a child with her. What really caused me worry though had been that I could hurt her small, tender body easily, and even worse: I sometimes wished to.

When night fell I would grit my teeth knowing that somewhere in proximity she lay helpless, not expecting my presence, and how sweet of a moment it would be to take the surprised Redfield. With excruciating exquisiteness she would yell out once more but this time in disregard that we had an audience, and I would fill her with myself until I could not push any further. I desired to make her hurt so that it would be confused with pleasure, I wanted her nails dug so deeply into my skin that she drew blood, and I wanted her to submit to me completely. Power and control were once again wielded by me, and Goddammit I would use it if it were just for one night.

The bulge in my boxers refused to go away, prompting me to finally act on my craving when the ache to mount her like an animal in heat became so unbearable that I felt myself throbbing in pain. Shirtless, I made my way down the hall and to her wing of the property which contained the more humble rooms reserved for the usual visiting scientists. A crack in her door provided me with a view of the young woman lying on her stomach with her face turned away from the door. The white skin of her back was illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the window that set barely above ground level, and it rose and fell as she demonstrated the deep breaths that came with sleep. How fortunate for me that she was in just the right position.

The logic that was laid out in my head was being ignored as I crept into her room, locking the wooden door behind me quietly. I didn't care that I shouldn't just that I could and that I wanted to- no, I _needed_ to. Though I had searched through the local Native women earlier, finding a few to my liking within me the animal chimed that this was no itch that could be easily scratched and forgotten about. No, this was a persisting rash that would not vanish until I was given the proper remedy, and my particular antidote was Claire Redfield sprawled out before me, gripping the sheets in both agony and pleasure. I needed to release myself into her and only her; perhaps knowing that she was ovulating (a dressy word for heat merely to distinguish between the humans and animals) is what drove me to this point.

Unfaltering, I made my way to her bed, pulling back the white sheet to reveal her naked body to me, the change in temperature causing her to stir a bit but not awaken. With a ragged breath I spread her legs, positioning myself to taste her. Immediately she guessed my identity, but I hushed her. Though I witnessed the frown on her face I overlooked it to continue her preparation for what could have been an uncomfortable start, but I would try my best to awaken her own desire.

Stifling a moan she asked, "What are you doing?"

Surely she was confused when I spurned her advances yesterday, but as of now I wished that she would do as I had: forget about the consequences and give in to her inner animalistic needs.

Though we were both spent I did not remove myself from her, though I continued to trail kisses over her collarbone and neck, every now and then pulling out a bit and going back in. It was obvious that I was not as tired as she was; sometimes her eyes would close sleepily, only to open again later. Rather than question my actions I decided to accept what I had done, and now there was no way to stop it again.

November 19, 2001 Monday 12:46 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Exhausted

Whatever had possessed him to sneak into my room still hadn't left him, but I didn't protest although by now I was no good for anything. He continued to kiss me lightly as I faded in and out of sleep, the insides of my thighs sore from his pelvic bones, and something else was definitely sore yet he refused to remove himself. I must have been out for a good two minutes only to discover that he was still on top of me. It was not a frightening sight to behold upon awakening, but it somehow gave me the energy I needed to push him up, and I felt that he was still hard as he slid from within me. I pushed him back, his head lying on the foot of the bed and I positioned myself between his legs to take him into my mouth.

It was almost automatic though it had been a while, but it came back so easily to me: what made him grunt, what made him buck his hips, and what made him come. His second release came so quickly, and I wanted to please him best as I could. More than anything I hoped it would get him to sleep, because though I thoroughly enjoyed the make-up sex, I was worn out from it. For a moment I thought he was ready for a second round when he took me into his arms, but he surprised me by standing.

Completely naked, I clung to him while he opened my door and took me to his room where he laid me down in his bed. Once I covered myself up I fell asleep, drifted off, not remembering him getting next to me, just warmth that lasted throughout the night.

When I woke up he was nowhere to be seen, but I didn't mind because I was too exhausted to deal with the consequences of last night. Though blissful, I didn't want to talk about it, right now, and I didn't know exactly how to feel about it either. After I had resolved to speak with him about me being placed elsewhere, he changed his mind about me. Something even more unnerving was that he had had sex with me without protection when both of us knew what that boneheaded decision lead to last time. Still I couldn't imagine us ever having the patience to use a condom so it would have been weirder than not if he had come prepared.

Last night was confusing, very much wanted but still… He had just turned me away _and _caught me reading his diary, then he turned around and decided to screw my brains out, almost like he needed to which seeing as he was a man could very well be the case. Releasing a deep sigh, I sat up, only now remembering that I was naked and without any clothing whatsoever at this moment. My intention was to go to the bathroom since that was everyone's first act of the day, but before I could do that I rummaged through Wesker's dresser until I found a black, button-up. I slipped it on and enjoyed the feeling of something that was his wrapped around me, stopping myself from smiling and getting too giddy over one night of sex.

God, it was like we had to start all over again and I had to remind myself that things could once more be temporary. I definitely needed some time alone to think.

Not knowing the time made me hesitant about creeping to the bathroom because I had no idea if any of the scientists were walking about, so I quickly made my way back to my wing of the house and grabbed some of my own clothes before going to my bathroom. My shower was wonderful, for some reason showering after having sex gave you the greatest feeling in the world, almost like you were completely happy. It did keep me from sorting things out though, and honestly I didn't care to do that and ruin my own mood. Since I got here all I thought about was Wesker no longer wanting me and how I'd lost everything, but last night had given me something to look forward to. Now if Wesker was leading me on then I guess he had fooled me twice and I was even more stupid than I originally thought.

His motives were what bothered me though, that is if he had any. What if he was performing some sick experiment where he was attempting to knock me up just so that he could see what the next pregnancy would result in? No, he wouldn't do that, not when he seemed perturbed by the fact that last time he had no choice but to end my life to save it all because of a baby that would never be treated as his offspring. Yet I was befuddled; Wesker didn't do things on a whim, but hadn't our first time having sex been on a whim as well? Though he was a methodical man I highly doubted _any _man sat back and planned out sex, thought of it sure but planned? As I towel dried my hair I let my thoughts cease, noticing steam rise from my body as heat mixed with cool air.

More than anything I wanted to go back to sleep, instead I chose to do what idiotic women did after a spontaneous night of sex: go bug the man they fucked. I slipped on a pair of denim shorts and some sneakers, and a black, pure body shirt. Before I left I threw my hair into a tangled ponytail and headed to the elevator, feeling nervous the whole way to his office. How I hated that his door was automatic though, it felt weird to just walk in when the polite thing to do would have been to knock.

Accepting that I'd just have to be rude I stepped in front of the door, it slid up quickly and in fear of Wesker's reaction to my unannounced visit I flinched. When I noticed that his back was still facing the doorway I stepped inside and knocked gently on the wall, hoping that he was in a good mood today. His blond head stayed buried in his notes though as he scribbled and lifted the papers to his left to peek at some other papers, and I nervously licked my lips.

"Yes Miss Redfield?"

My heart dropped into my stomach when he addressed me under that name, and I completely looked over the fact that he knew that it was me. "I was just wondering how it was going…"

His writing stopped. A sense of dread rose in my chest, growing especially when he turned in his chair to look at me. "Come in." I made my way to the chair across from his, hearing the door seal behind me. Shyly I took my seat, clasping my hands in my lap, my back rigid with apprehension over what he could be about to tell me. Though I had given him my attention he began writing again, just slower than he had been scribbling before.

"The virus has bonded with your DNA. It is a part of you."

For some reason I wasn't feeling as disappointed as I should, instead I just stared at him, listening intently. He turned to face me finally, rubbing his chin with a gloved hand, and if his eyes were twinkling with interest I don't know.

"Stripping it could involve more danger than it is worth."

"I'm not looking for an easy way out," I chimed. "If it takes ten years to come up with a vaccine I'll wait. I don't need an instant cure, but I can't exactly go back to my life knowing that I'll always be different."

"Dear heart…"

My life… "Wesker," I began, scooting forward in my chair, "I can't go back, can I?" I had failed to ask about the details of my last day as a human, not that I cared to know anymore other than the fact that I died and so did my child. "What happened?"

With his index finger he pushed his shades further up the bridge of his nose, his jaw relaxed as if he had been rehearsing this moment for a while. Of course he saw it coming, but not this far into my stay here; more than likely he was probably shocked that I'd managed to keep my trap shut about going home. "You are now as wanted as I am. I am certain that the CDC has informed your brother of our connection. Any return to your old life has become impossible."

I needed a glass of water to process the information, and to push down the lump that was forming in my throat. My hands became clammy while I ran his words over in my head once more, hating that I'd asked in the first place. "What about..." Everything? Everyone? What would my few friends think about my disappearance from their lives and appearance on a Most Wanted List? Then there was my only family: Chris.

"Though your brother may refuse to believe the proof placed before him, the United States Government has no bias Claire."

A sad laugh broke through, my torso visibly jumping with it. "Am I wanted dead or alive?" He opened his mouth to answer but I yelled, "I don't need to know!" If my logic was correct then they wanted me alive for the simple fact that I was pregnant whilst in their custody, and now I wasn't. They would need me alive for questioning on Wesker, my infection, and my baby. Suddenly I feared capture, hating that Leon could possibly end up behind my interrogation or even worse: he could be the one to turn me over.

Would they torture me by water boarding me for information or would they give me one of those serums they used in the movies that made you unable to tell a lie? Would they threaten my brother and treat me like I wasn't even a citizen of this country?

Without realizing it I was biting my bottom lip quite angrily, chewing on it as a matter of fact, and Wesker seemed to take notice. There was another reason I came down here to talk to him, but I couldn't even fathom us talking about our relationship –whatever you wanted to call it- when more important matters were at hand.

Finally giving in I decided to request his counsel, "What does this mean for me?" Never had Albert Wesker been at a complete loss for words, usually he had the answer to every damned thing, and it honestly unnerved me that he was without a clue in such a frightening moment. "Do I live the rest of my life in a lab? In some isolated, Dutch village on a hill in a shack with goats?" An image came to my head of me being known as an American hermit that eventually went insane from lack of human contact, and with a scoff I realized that it was something that should have been foreseen for me, the nosy Redfield sibling who got herself into every sink hole I'd been plucked out of.

_By Wesker nonetheless._

For a moment I feared that Wesker did not take my questions seriously, but he got to his feet and walked over the bookshelf to my left, my eyes following him as he leaned against it and pretended to peruse over titles of medical books he'd probably memorized by now. "If you were under my employ, I would insure your safety dear heart. If you chose not to work for me," he turned his head to face me, a sly smile creeping across his lips, "still I would make sure that you were taken care of. Our previous arrangement has not been forgotten."

As I let his words sink in I still couldn't find the strength to give a smile of gratitude, not even the smallest one. Of course it did mean quite a bit to me that he was still willing to keep his word, but it couldn't make everything else go away. I couldn't imagine just disappearing from Chris' life without giving him an explanation, well I already had but… the permanence that I would have to do it with now…

"I can't live like this." My words were spoken to my hands that were now red as they squeezed one another; this reality was too much to bear. I'd done all of this to help Chris, but in the end it seemed as though my price to pay would be giving him up entirely. I didn't care if Wesker bought me an isolated island and named it after my brother, because right about now Government incarceration seemed worth just a few seconds of seeing him and letting him know that it was all done for him. I didn't abandon you Chris.

I would never, but I was given no choice now…

November 21, 2001 Wednesday 12:33 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Nervous

I remembered his birthday from his fake ID, and also I remembered it because Chris hated this day. Corny and cliché as it was he cursed the day Wesker was born and yet I hated the fact that I couldn't even bake him a cake. He had bought me the best gift I'd ever received for a birthday but I couldn't return the favor at all, and it bothered me. Not because I was hoping to win him over and impress him, but because I believed in being fair and even.

When he entered my room and asked me to sit down I half expected him to give me a "Wesker Glare" as punishment but it would have been highly illogical of him to be angry with me for not getting him a gift when I was locked up underground with several miles of snow and wildlife surrounding me.

With an uneasy smile I said softly, "I wanted to do something for your birthday. Happy birthday," I finished awkwardly, waving my hands in mock excitement. He stood in his usual fashion, arms folded, legs not too far apart, and head tilted down. There was something dominating about that, the fact that he always looked down to me, and his shades didn't soften the glare at all, but there was something about this that I liked…

"Dear heart I am afraid there are more important matters at hand." He shocked me by practically stating that his birthday held little significance, yet I knew this should come as no surprise to me since he never spoke of it. I wasn't sure how he felt about celebrating his birth, but "Old Claire" who knew nothing of the man at all would have imagined him renting out a stadium for a party large enough to slake his vanity. Now I wondered if he had ever considered his birth to have been unnecessary, but that little voice told me that I was just attempting to make excuses for and humble him since he did not do so for himself.

It was because I felt for him, a piece of me desperately attempting to find a trace of normal within him, but what was normal about a man who chose to be on the run and chose death to forsake his humanity?

"What is it?" The question stayed inside of me long enough; I was too afraid to ask what else was going on.

"Soon, I shall be leaving this place." His words were like a bucket of ice water to my face, and I felt as though I had been hit in the chest, deprived of air. Despite these sensations I only blinked, my teeth clamping together tightly as I forced a protest down. "A business venture seems to be well on its way to taking a turn for the worse, and it is imperative that I am there to assess the damage."

Silly, love-struck me ignored the words and the underlying meaning, all because he said that he was leaving without mentioning where that'd leave me. "So I'll be left here?"

For a moment he looked up, looking thoughtful as he ran my question over in his mind, but for a second I thought I caught the tiniest bit of a smirk. "I have taken what this would mean for you into consideration Claire. Once more we have found ourselves in a… difficult situation."

I surprised myself by breathing, "That's putting it lightly." He was referring to our actions the night before, not his departure, and it didn't take a genius to figure that out.

For a moment he was silent, his eyes falling onto me once more. "That is why right now I am giving you a choice: to either come with me and be a part of it or remain here."

My eyes shot open at his offer, startling me beyond words. I could not believe that Albert Wesker was offering to bring me along on _business_. To further illustrate how big of a deal this was I reminded myself of the secret rooms that I _know_ existed in the house in Red Lodge that I _never_ saw the insides of. "I won't be a distraction?" Hopefully I wouldn't end up talking him out of letting me tag along.

With a smirk he said, "I have no intention of bringing you along for my field work dear heart, however you will be on the same continent as I and should the travel arrangements permit the same country." This condition, I wasn't too fond of but I was sure he wouldn't be too far from me if we were separated by a border, and this was an opportunity to gain some freedom even if it meant my luxury was a hotel balcony. I assumed we'd be leaving North America so that told me our other options would most likely be warmer.

South America was warm, it varied in Europe but it was much warmer there than it was here right now, Africa was a given temperature-wise, and so was Australia. I was unsure about Asia and Russia really didn't count as a part of Europe or Asia –or so my History teacher had claimed- so I took the liberty of marking that off of my list, and quite happily since I heard Siberia was a bitch. Antarctica would not be counted either seeing as it held too few people to be a place for business, and those people were too busy trying to determine if shrimp were capable of surviving a few miles under the water there.

As of now my chances of a warm getaway looked pretty good so I dared to ask, "Where are we going?" He said nothing and I decided to compromise by giving him a larger range to work with without giving it all away. "Can I at least know the continent?" That was really all I cared to know since it would give me some idea of what to expect.

"In one month we leave for South America."

I swear I almost jumped to my feet and did a silly, little dance when Wesker said that we'd be leaving this freezer for nice, warm South America. He further surprised me by issuing me a new, black card and encouraging me to order new clothing that would be better suited for the warmer weather. I bought shorts, flip flops, tank tops- anything that would symbolize my departure from the Yukon, and of course Wesker had to provide shipping information since I had no idea exactly where we'd be heading. Maybe we'd go to Brazil and I'd be allowed to go to the New Year's festival. It was so drab here, the mere thought of the myriad of colors, dancing, and music brought a smile to my face.

It seemed like it was more of my birthday than his because this was up there with my bike, which I hadn't even been able to ride out here.

Seriously, he had no idea how much I wanted to kiss him for this, and then I remembered the most important part of traveling with him: an alias. "Wesker?" I asked almost timidly. A blond eyebrow rose in acknowledgment of my voice, and I leaned forward in the chair I had been twirling in while he entered shipping information into the computer. "Am I going to need a name?"

His typing ceased as he thought, knowing that I couldn't really go anywhere in the world now brandishing the name Claire Redfield, but then again for some reason I had a feeling the American Government was willing to endanger other countries just so they wouldn't find out about me and attempt to capture me for their own sick desires for bio-weaponry. "Is there a name you would prefer?"

That one question made me almost gasp, and really I didn't get why, perhaps I was being overemotional and beginning to see something that more than likely didn't exist in every one of his actions. Even though I cringed when I first heard him dub me as Sara Ivanov, I was willing to give him another chance.

"You choose." My doubt was clear in my voice, something that caused him to give a half smirk, in turn making my face feel a few degrees warmer.

As he pretended to think he leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, exhaling deeply. "This name shall stick." With a dramatic pause he looked to the ceiling, and honestly the suspense was killing me, I mean what if he picked a name like Clementine or Bertha? I wouldn't want to be stuck with those, and yes they'd more than likely stick by the mere ugliness of them. I prayed he plucked something out of the sky (ceiling) that would be pleasant to leave the mouth.

After about a minute of me digging my nails into my palms and tapping my feet against the floor anxiously he once more took on his almost aristocratic posture. I swear the guy could look like he was the aristocratic lord of a castle in a Lazy Boy. "Illyria."

With a sigh of relief I smiled at him, loving the way the name rolled off of his tongue, and I asked, "Illyria 'what?'"

"Illyria Wishkar."

Despite his pronunciation I recognized the familiarity in the name, but I would not make assumptions or annoy an answer out of him. So I nodded and repeated the name to myself, sans the accent of course which I could tell belonged to a language I spoke not a lick of. "I like it." Before I could further comment I felt an ache in my lower back and abdomen that made me flinch from the sudden pain. I saw the look of concern pass over his face, and he immediately came to kneel before me, grabbing my shoulder with a gloved hand.

"What is it?" He searched my eyes not for an answer but to make sure that I was still conscious of his presence. "Claire what is it?"

"I…" A familiar sensation stopped me from telling him that I didn't know, and I felt something warm and wet between my legs. Now that I was sure I was almost ashamed as I spread my legs, seeing a red spot that stained my shorts. This was something that I had wondered about often, and now that it was happening I was more afraid than ever: there was no longer a doubt in my mind that I could produce children.

A/N: I'm not sure how this came out for y'all. I'm just not in the writing mood and I haven't been lately. When I am I'm not near my laptop. Just getting things together mentally and confused at this point. Just the fates conspiring against me. Ugh, what a half a month. It's shorter than intended but it's been a while so an update was desperately needed! The name Illyria which I LOVE is the name I have chosen for my future daughter and I'm talking like 8 years in the future! And I see all y'all adding and reading. Be nice and review for once eh I mean maybe it'll get my spirits up.


	16. Mutatio

A/N: Thank you reviewers! "Mutatio" is "change" in Latin. And hint: big fun in South America because something important happens in 2002 down there! I'm excited though because we know who's in South America in 2002! If you haven't played Darkside Chronicles you better get a Wii or get on the Wiki! I just finished finals, and then my boyfriend has been coming home more so of course I have to be with him! 3 We aren't together 24/7 but my attention span is now like- "Ooh what's that?" or "I don't wanna do/eat this anymore." Sad yes I know. Also you can blame my rediscovery of Reboot for my neglect. Hexadecimal will always be my favorite and they better get on that movie!

Lady Snowstorm: Thank you, I'm glad you like it; it took me long enough lol. And nah I wouldn't be so cruel to her again. My relationship with Chris is love/hate, I'm not sure why though… hmm.

under-the-wall-flower: Yes you're right it has helped! I'm glad it cheers you up! And hey, a god should have a god's libido (ex: Zeus).

Naoko Suki: Everybody gets a little wild… I hope it's not just me and my boyfriend at least. The cold was keeping poor Claire locked up and even I couldn't take it, let her party a little. Thank you I just want my girl's name to be perfect. I now consider my tongue fully healed as it's been 2 months. The second day was the worst and after that it was smooth sailing. And ah, cake.

NinMetro: Thank you so much. I would say more but it's a secret.

elevenzombiezz: Sorry hope I didn't make it too M rated. It's all right, I never get tired of hearing it C=

Raikovladi92: It makes me so glad you like mine then! I missed sadistic Wesker as well, pissed off Wesker will make an appearance soon too!

EchoCIDE: Things are better, I got my new phone and I get like a month and some weeks without class so whoo-hoo! And girl you know I had to do it, Wesker gives me a challenge, makes me kinda wanna kick him in the shin though. I want Claire to get in trouble in SA, big trouble (insert evil grin).

xXx TinkiesxXx: One of those guesses is right ;) and thank you I hope I got this to y'all in a timely manner!

XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX: Trust me, Netflix has sucked me in numerous times, struggling now even with Reboot. I would pay to hear his thoughts too, but I'd fear brainwashing and next thing you know I'd be on the news… in prison forever. I wouldn't want to take away her ability to reproduce; I think any woman who'd be a good parent should be able to reproduce. Ugh, God should take that privilege from these "women" around here.

Kexy Kewl: Yes I'm so proud of myself :'). As for Wesker, his desire for Claire was stronger than his anger. His diary being read isn't too big of a deal, and he can't stay angry when he knows what was inside: the pictures and information on their offspring. I think that'd be pretty cruel to continue mistreating and confusing her when that wound was just reopened. Also Wesker and Claire are no longer human (well, Claire is… different) so his hormones would be much stronger. He's only been fighting his urge to be with Claire, strong as Wesker is there's only so much he can take. I hope that cleared it up for you :).

arakne: Thank you!

Marzipan: Yes MUCH more and sorry to make you wait. My excuses were about in the A/N but I have also been having personal issues that I have had to seek help about. Since it affects the readers and my update habits I guess I should let it be known that I am being treated for Bipolar Disorder and something else and it was affecting my study, sleep, and writing habits (made me consider no longer writing this but I knew I didn't really want that) as well as my relationships. It is an issue that has others tagged along with it so if you want to know about it then just search severe bipolar disorder symptoms. I was dealing with his on my own for 7 years. Thank you for your review and I'm glad you enjoy my story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters, but I own this fic and the original characters.

Optio

Chapter 16: Mutatio

November 21, 2001 Wednesday 1:54 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Afraid

I began to feel faint, my vision slowly faded to black as my torso fell forward, and for a while I saw nothing. Next thing I knew I was floating down the corridor, not sure if I'd been out for an hour or a few seconds, but Wesker's blurry face stared straight ahead, his mouth moving. My eyes began to focus, and everything began changing from fuzzy and obscure to solid. Dr. Seaborne flanked us, walking up to get the door for us, but I couldn't make out anything he was saying. Whatever it was he spoke the words quickly, yet at the same time he attempted to convey a sense of calm for my sake I assumed.

I recognized the familiar table where I had been "violated" and began to squirm against Wesker's chest, but he ignored my protests and laid me down.

"No!" I yelled, knowing this was what I needed, but for some reason I couldn't hush the voice inside of me that said to fight. My battle was short lived as I felt a pinprick on my neck, and the dosage had to have been so much that it knocked me out right away because when I awakened I had no idea what time it even was.

Instantly I recognized the silk sheets beneath me as Wesker's, and my eyes flew open as I sat up. Somehow I knew that he was the one who drugged me, and even though I planned to ramble a stream of curses at him his absence made that impossible. The room was dim, barely lit by the lamp on the nightstand, and since I had nothing to take my anger out on I threw myself back down onto the mattress, grumbling angrily to myself.

The feel of cotton rubbing against my legs made me frown; I wasn't wearing sweat pants when I was last awake. Someone had put me in a red boyfriend tank and a pair of black sweats, but that wasn't the strangest part. The familiar feel of a Maxi Pad made lying down more annoying than ever; still it made me remember that I was bleeding just before I fainted. Exhaling sharply I attempted to get to my feet, instantly being punished with a sudden gush of a warm liquid forcing itself out of me.

"Are you fucking serious?" I groaned as I just got back into bed, not wanting to spring another leak. "My period." My words were muffled by the pillow that I buried my face into, finding that this was a "be careful what you wish for" situation. I heard the doorknob turning but I decided not to get up since I knew who it was.

Wesker seemed to be making sure that I was up for company, and as long as he was going to provide answers then I was. He locked the door behind him and came to sit on the bed next to me, a gesture I found as sweet, but it was more likely that he did it because it would put me more at ease than him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "How are you?"

For a moment I thought, turning on my side to face him and hug the pillow beneath my head. "Both good and bad." He gave a single nod, his jaw taught with an emotion that I couldn't discern. "Wesker what's happening to me?" The question came out shakier than I intended, yet I believe I deserved some slack since my world had once more been turned upside down, or right side up. Hell, I couldn't even tell which way was which anymore.

"You failed to conceive during ovulation." His answer was simple, but I sensed that he knew more that would possibly upset me.

Being the Redfield I was I asked, "I actually ovulated?"

"Last week." For a moment I stared at the pillow beneath me, sitting up as I tried to remember anything out of the ordinary, and honestly the weirdest day I had was the day Wesker and I had sex. Noticing that I was having a hard time figuring out when this alleged ovulation took place, the blond clasped his hands in his lap. "There was a reason I was unable to fight coming to you that night Claire."

"Well how's it a week…" My jaw dropped once I realized that I had yet again woke up to find that a considerable amount of time had passed without my knowledge, making me feel even more powerless than before. Only because I _needed _to I asked, "What's the date?"

He got to his feet, and I noticed that for such a large man he was as quiet and stealthy as a cat. "The twenty-fifth." Though that upset me I was grateful that it was only a week this time instead of another half a year. So that meant that for four days he had been… oh God I wanted to die of embarrassment. When I held my face in my hands he kneeled down to pull them away, assuring me with, "You were unable to care for yourself. Your body has gone through yet another change while in this new condition, and it was too much."

Before I ended up crying and scaring him away I blinked a few times and nodded my head, trying to ignore the fear that was creeping up my spine to sow more seeds of doubt in my mind. If this virus was still changing me what if it mutated until I couldn't control it? What if this thing killed me?

"I should've known better than to trust a virus." Though I had reservations about the admission, it just came out without my permission.

"There are benign viruses. Many are beneficial to our health. Cowpox saved many from smallpox. There is a virus that kills breast cancer. Your virus saved your life." Knowing it was the truth I let my head drop, shamed that I owed a virus created by an Umbrella employee for my existence and well-being. "However, as I stated before it is bound to you, therefore it almost no longer exists as separate. In the equation of you and the Aceso Virus, it has the product of a completely new organism that this world has never seen and more than likely never will again."

So I was definitely no longer human. "You've named it I see." That part didn't really bother me at all; I mean at least he knew enough about it to name it at this point. So he was studying it, and since that was the case I knew that if I were in any danger he'd let me know. Now that I was at ease my mind wandered back to what he said before, and I cocked my head to the side and asked, "There's a virus that kills breast cancer?"

"Dear heart we cannot risk another pregnancy." He released me and stood up straight, walking a few feet away from the bed.

Despite my desire to protest I only nodded my head in agreement, understanding that to not care would make me a monster. If I got pregnant this time there was no telling what we would conceive, and it would hurt me to have no choice but to end another life that didn't ask to be brought into the world only to be ripped out. As badly as I wanted Wesker, as badly as I desired to figure out what the hell this was, I couldn't risk another life -no matter how inhuman- all for the purpose of gaining understanding. And there was no way around this with the substitution of another form of sex; if my hormones could drive Wesker to forego common sense then I knew that in the heat of the moment he wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking me.

With no desire to continue down the road of emotional conversation I made sure to ask him about my period now. His answer was that it should have been over the same day it started, however due to me being unconscious and still for days, it would only finish today. It explained why standing up didn't work out so well earlier. My ovulation had lasted for one day, so my window was only slightly opened, yet we had no idea how many of these "heats" I would experience in a year so we had no choice but to play it safe. The most important factor in this equation was Wesker himself: we had no idea how long his sperm could survive.

Call me an idiot but I thought to myself that super-man would equal super-sperm. What I wasn't ignorant about however was that since my virus would keep me slim it would definitely change the frequency of my periods, though I was unsure of how long since, once again, I wasn't sure of how many times I'd ovulate. I was glad that Wesker was able to hold off on fucking me silly though. Had it been a day or two prior to my ovulation I would have gotten pregnant without a doubt, so we definitely dodged a bullet there.

Still I couldn't help but wonder if we'd be able to follow through on our vow of abstinence with the chemicals in our bodies raging. It was a test of time, and maybe next month would bring some clarity to this all. God I sure hoped so.

November 22, 2001 Thursday 2:22 AM

Subject: Arti, Maritza

Location: Castle Rock, Colorado

Status: Alert

Leon's work was a Godsend at this point. How the fuck else could I have got up in the middle of the night and followed this guy for half an hour unnoticed? He'd been too worried about covering his ass that he actually failed quite miserably in making it to his destination without anyone tailing him, and damn had I been pretty close a few times. I made sure my bike was in a safe enough location and removed my helmet, shaking my hair out and tousling it a bit.

He'd led to me to some dump of a bar, and since it was a loud place I wouldn't even need to hide myself from him. He knew me, but we never got to the point where he'd instantly be able to pick out the back of my head in a crowd. To avoid being seen I followed pretty close behind him, and once inside of the bar he made his way to a booth in the back, and just as I passed him I managed to gently touch the back of his jacket without him noticing.

In the crowded, dimly lit establishment I was a ghost almost, and without even taking in my surroundings I quickly turned to leave. Back at my bike I removed my small backpack and pulled out a little silver remote with one red button present on it, and I pressed it. Just as quickly as I arrived I mounted my bike and headed back to Denver, having nothing to do but wait. Something told me that the meeting would be quick, but there was no point in me leaving at the same time as my subject since that would up the chances of me being caught for sure.

No, I'd beat him back and be in my own apartment playing back the content of his conversation with his contact, and he'd never know. Once I was home I sat down on my couch, syncing the remote with the speaker on my coffee table. I adjusted the volume to the max and hit the green switch. For the first ten minutes I heard nothing but bar-talk, the game playing on the television, and eventually he spoke.

"Sergei," he greeted, and I instantly frowned. Chris Redfield was getting wrapped up with a major player in Umbrella?

"Comrade Redfield." I rolled my eyes at Colonel Vladimir's stubbornness in accepting that the Soviet's time had fallen. Great now I was referring to him as Colonel. "There is news of strange dealings within South America with a drug lord named Javier Hidalgo."

For a moment there was a pause, and I leaned forward, interested in this meeting even more than I had been before. "A drug lord?"

"Da. I'm not sure what our friend is up to. He has not been quiet about this deal; however there is another one in progress in Greenland. That one, we know even less about."

"So we should be concentrating on that one?" For a moment I was tempted to cross my fingers, taking the determination in Chris' voice as a sign that he'd be headed in the complete opposite direction of Wesker. It seemed the intentional outbreak would lead him away from my employer's little experiment in the Amazon.

"I believe that South America is a ruse. Wesker has been seen near Greenland as a matter of fact." My hands became fists as I shook with anxiety, what more faked evidence would they need?

"You're right." I released a breath I didn't know that I was even holding. "South America is too large, too many people."

Right, I said to myself, no one gives a shit about Greenland.

"Have your men standing by," Chris ordered. "Umbrella is going down, but first I want Wesker."

My eyes widened at his declaration. Chris Redfield had no idea who Sergei really was. "Wesker, you'll want to know about this."

December 25, 2001 Tuesday 7:26 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mayo, Yukon

Status: Out cold

"Claire?" Usually being awakened was an unpleasant experience, but somehow Wesker managed to ease me out of sleep, a sleep that it took forever for me to get into. No sex meant: No late night exertion (we couldn't even kiss without him pulling away and leaving the room), which meant Claire, was a grump in the morning, but then I remembered exactly what today was. Christmas. Though I didn't expect anything from him, I decided to wake up anyhow, hoping that just maybe we'd spend the day together, although what could we possibly do to pass the time?

We wouldn't bake Christmas cookies, or watch Rudolf, and in all honestly Christmas lost its hype for me when I turned eighteen. Since then the holiday had consisted of Chris and me telling the other what we wanted which took the mystery out of it. Nope, there was no question of, "Will I get that 'blank' I've been hinting at?"

So as if my eyelids carried weight I pried them open, sleepily staring up to Wesker and a steaming, white porcelain mug. As I did every morning I rubbed my eyes, wiping the crust from them and I gave a yawn to prove that I was up. Wordlessly I took the mug from his hands and forced myself to bear the heat of the coffee, not worrying about scalded taste buds since they'd heal themselves in a few seconds. Obviously he wanted caffeine in my system for a reason, so hopefully whatever he had planned wasn't so tedious that I'd fall asleep.

With that thought I asked, "What are we doing?" He removed the empty mug from my hands and stood up from my bed, and I followed him down the hallway ignoring the fact that I was still in my yoga pants and a t-shirt. He led me into the kitchen where a few plastic bags rested on the counter, and a chair that belonged in the dining room sat behind it. What surprised me more though was the sight of a tall, slim woman of Asian descent standing with her hands on her hips like her precious time was being wasted. Somehow she seemed familiar…

"Ms. Wong, please inform Claire why you are here." He placed the mug in the sink and leaned against it, "Ms. Wong" throwing him a glare.

She rolled her eyes and looked to me with a mysterious smirk. "I heard someone has made the World's Most Wanted List and needs a makeover before she can travel." With a sway in her walk, she made her way around the counter to me, circling me and looking me up and down. Feeling like I was in a display case I crossed my arms over my chest, trying not to appear too intimidated… or ashamed of my homely appearance but I had just woke up so maybe she'd cut me some slack. "Your body has changed since I or anyone else last saw you so that took care of itself, everything else on the other hand…"

"Excuse you?" I asked, angrily putting my hands on my hips and placing my weight on one leg. Something about her trailing off offended me, and damn it I wouldn't sit here and take any of her shit lying down.

Ignoring my question she stopped directly in front of me and extended a perfectly manicured hand, "Ada." Hesitantly I took it, narrowing my eyes at her and her mocking smile. Her outfit itself screamed, "bitch." She wore a pair of dark jeans sky high, deep red leather boots that matched her top and she had obviously removed her coat; there was no way that skin-tight turtle-neck sweater had kept her warm. I was willing to give her a chance since we apparently had something in common with our obsession with red, that didn't mean she was off the hook for being snobbish upon our first meeting.

Then I thought for a second. "Ada," I murmured to myself. "You know Le-"

"I apologize for my… _icy_ reception to you, but the Yukon isn't my kind of place." I found her interruption odd but the sudden change in the muscles of her face made me realize that mentioning our mutual friend was unwise in the presence of Wesker.

"Ada is one of the few people we are able to trust." Finally looking back to him I gave a nod of understanding, although what I didn't understand is what I'd trust her with.

My question must have been showing on my face because Ada announced, "You came in auburn-haired, and will leave something else." So that's what she meant by makeover. As she tucked a strand of her short, black hair behind her ear I prayed she didn't plan on gracing me with her 'do.

At the news that the "girly" session would begin Wesker stood up straight and headed for the doorway, "I shall leave you two to it."

Smirking at Wesker's back, Ada purred, "Men." As I eyed the bags on the counter she rubbed her hands together and said, "Let's get to work shall we?" She ushered me over to the chair where a heavy, black cape waited, and she shoved it into my chest. The action was not done rudely, but more in a manner that said I was taking too long to complete the obvious task. After figuring out where the sleeves were I took a seat and listened to her mix something in a bowl.

Fearful of the possible outcome of this I asked, "So what exactly are we doing?"

"Can you get those sheets of foil out of the bag to your right?" As I searched around for the material she mixed away for another fifteen seconds before finally saying, "I thought about blonde but it's so overused and it doesn't suit your skin tone. Sure it's different but do you really want to look like a Swedish maid?" Placing the precut strips of foil before me I furrowed my brow, trying to figure out if she was throwing out insults or trying to be constructive. "Then I thought black would be better, even though your hair is dark now this will make you stand out more."

Turning my neck as far as the cape would allow I asked, "Isn't that what we're trying to change?"

"Sweetie the way you'll stand out after we're finished is a compliment."

"In comparison to…" How I looked now?

"You look like what you were." She placed the bowl to my left and stared down at me. I decided to decipher that as: hot college student for her sake. "What we're going for is… model who doesn't know what hard work or _motorcycles _are." Her stressing of the word "motorcycle" told me that my fascination with them wasn't dainty enough.

"So I'm expected to be somewhat exotic with a last name like Wishkar?"

"Swedish and Persian," she supplied, making me feel odd for living different lives and actually enjoying it.

With as much sarcasm as I could muster I said, "Great, two cultures which I know nothing about."

"Please, Americans born in America know less about the US than you probably do about Sweden and Iran." Nodding my head I admitted to myself that she had a point, I mean I learned quite a bit about Persian history in my college courses that covered Xerxes' rule so maybe that would count for something if the subject of "Illyria's" heritage came into question. Odd that no one dwelled on Sara's Russian heritage for long but I had a feeling that Illyria would be a different story. There's no way I'd luck out with another community of people as daft as the ones in Red Lodge.

As she began sectioning off pieces of my hair I found that my eyes were beginning to hurt, mainly because in my attempt to look at the back of my head I was about to dislodge them. "Just so you know," she started abruptly, "black dye is the hardest dye to remove from your hair."

"Meaning?"

She gave a single chuckle as she began pasting the dye on a section of my hair. "You'd have to strip it to remove it." That's not too bad I thought to myself, I was sure I could find something to get it out when I needed to. "And then your hair will be orange."

"WHAT?" It seemed she anticipated my reaction so when I whipped my head to the side I ended up feeling a sharp tug at my scalp. Sighing heavily my "stylist" began securing the coated section of hair in strips of the foil she had brought, curling it upward so that it wouldn't be in the way. As if nothing happened she repeated her actions a few more times while I frowned in disbelief.

"Oh and you _will_ have to dye it immediately after stripping it," she added, dipping the brush back into the bowl.

I rolled my eyes and frowned although she couldn't see it. "I didn't think of that, I just thought I'd walk around looking like Vitamin C until it grew out." Cynicism laced my words heavily, but it only caused her to giggle at my frustration. When she was out of hair to dye she took a seat at the stool on the other side of the counter, and so I could see her eye-to-eye I left my chair for the stool next to me.

I inhaled deeply at the silence between us, wondering if boredom so strong would hit me that I'd end up falling asleep despite my caffeine fix.

"I was there the night you died," she threw out suddenly, her fist under her chin as indifferent as if we were chatting about the weather.

Her sudden statement certainly threw me for a loop, and I struggled to recall the events. Never had I really tried to, and now all of it, including what I remembered before was blurry and forgotten like a dream you awaken from. Its details had faded, something I considered to be for the best, yet a few key things stuck.

"I remember promises being made." My gaze was aimed at the marble counter, confused by my failure to forget such a traumatic experience, and regardless of the outcome being a monster I felt guilt sharp as a knife poking me in the gut for ignoring that I was a mother at one point. A mother is a mother the second she finds out she's pregnant, I though miserably, finally recalling a sudden and unfounded want to ensure that the little life within me survived.

The quiet had bothered her, I could tell by how straight her back had become, and she clasped her hands tightly. "Did you ever see…"

It seemed she felt just as much guilt as I over referring to the baby as "it" but what else was there to call it? The child was sexless, and giving a name to the… creature would have been senseless and too much.

Blinking once I looked back to her chocolate colored irises, feeling a fluttering just beneath my ribcage as I realized that I had no obligation, motherly or otherwise to give a damn about what had grown in me as a parasite. "I saw pictures." Knowing that it couldn't compare to seeing something in real life, close up, I asked, "Was any part of it normal?"

Her jaw tightened noticeably, giving me my answer but she swallowed and chose to answer verbally. "Not a bit. Wild isn't strong enough of an adjective. Feral doesn't come close."

Disheartened I gave a single nod of understanding, having just been told that my child was completely devoid of humanity really made my Christmas morning. I had been willing to give my life for it…

We sat in silence the rest of the time, not even looking at each other, and I ignored that irritating desire to scratch when you knew damn well you couldn't. When it was time to rinse my hair I happily let her remove the foil and then jumped to my feet, beating her to the faucet. As she rinsed the left over dye I watched it swirl down the drain, actually somewhat excited to see the end result of this. Of course I'd have to wait until she was completely done before I could do this. When the water ran clear she led me back to my chair, removing a tube from one of the bags.

"Now what?" My question had a tone of true curiosity to it; something that I hoped would make her forget about our serious conversation earlier.

"Conditioning." She seemed like she was letting it preoccupy her so I let her have at it, understanding why she wasn't in much of a talkative mood: she had to rinse my hair yet again. When that was over she towel dried my hair best as she could and tousled it, running her fingers through it along with some sort of balm that smelled wonderful. Finally she allowed me to see the finished product when she produced a mirror from one of the bags, and I had to agree that I looked completely different.

"Um," I began, squinting at my reflection, "my eyebrows don't quite match."

Waving her hand through the air she gave a scoff. "Well because we haven't dyed them yet."

Okay, this was all new to me, but as she mudpacked the dye over my eyebrows I listened to her instructions just in case I had to do this on my own. After three minutes she took cotton balls to remove the dye and then removed any excess with some dye remover. It looked much better.

"Keep your eyebrows like that," she ordered, referring to their current thickness. With a frown I looked in the mirror once more, my puppy-dog face managed to guilt her into shaping them a little but she refused to make them as thin as before.

Still I found one more thing to complain about, and I had a feeling Ada wasn't too happy that I criticized her work at every turn. "Don't you think the black hair and blue eyes are a little too… fierce?" They were also a dead giveaway if any of my pursuers cared enough to study my face, and Chris would definitely be able to spot me by my eyes alone. Whether or not that was a bad thing… the jury was still out.

One last time my stylist for the day pulled something from her bag, a rectangular box that said "Blends" on the sides; at the top opening it read "hazel."

As she began to put everything away she announced, "Brown would have definitely made it seem like you were trying to hide something." After handing me the bag of boxes that read "Root Touch Up," eyebrow dye, and contact lenses she looked me in the eye and said, "It was a pleasure Claire." Oddly enough she gave a slight bow, making me question whether or not the polite thing to do would have been to return it, but she turned on her heel before I could.

"Thanks," I called after her. Once I heard the heavy doors past the foyer shut I hurried to my bathroom to further inspect my new look. If I had changed my look as Sara, maybe it would have been easier for me in Red Lodge, but I definitely couldn't call myself Claire Redfield now when I barely looked like her anymore.

Pasting on a smile I tried out my new introduction, but hopefully I wouldn't have to give anyone a bio. "Hi, I'm Illyria!" Frowning at the awkwardness I exhaled deeply and tried again. "Illyria. Illyria Wishkar. I'm Illyria Wishkar." Pretending my reflection was someone else, I managed to create dialogue for a whole scenario. "Well my dad's Swedish. My mom? She's Persian. I'm American so I don't know too much other than English."

The sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted my practicing though, and I saw Wesker leaning against the doorframe with a hint of a smirk on his face as my cheeks undoubtedly were flushed. "You look different," he observed, not leaving his perch.

Mortified, I smiled down at the floor, barely able to say, "That's the point."

Suddenly I heard his boots against the tiled floor, approaching me quickly, something that actually shocked me but I just turned to face him. Ungloved hands took hold of my face gently, and he caressed my jaw with his thumb before leaning in so that our lips were merely inches away from each others'.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered, pulling away and leaving me standing there on the tips of my toes. Somehow though, just from him being that close to me and letting the tension build had me woozy in the head. Everything was changing at this point and there was no way Wesker would be able to continue avoiding resuming a sexual relationship with me. I'm not sure why I wished to pursue a relationship with this man but I knew this for certain: in South America I'd get him to change his mind.

A/N: Yes I realized we jumped back a few days with Maritza but I wanted to stay focused on Claire. And Claire's makeover part took so long because I liked writing it for some reason. At first I was excited to write Maritza's part but when I remembered I had to invent Claire's other alias and at least change her appearance I couldn't stop so I got bored with Maritza. Damn that part was long… The virus is named for the Greek goddess of the process of curing. At first I wanted to use her sister's name: Panacea but she is the goddess of cures. Since we see the _process_ of curing with Claire's virus I chose Aceso. And yes there's a virus that kills breast cancer, it was on the radio a few months ago. Review!


	17. Anniversarium

A/N: "Anniversarium" is "anniversary." I've said it before but I tend to base some one Wesker's reactions and attitude on my boyfriend's. They are both two handsome, muscle-y… deep-voiced… (getting off track) men with real drive and ambition for what they do and have on many occasions displayed that nothing can or will get in the way of their end goal, not even a woman. And both strive for something that they say is for the greater good but their actions say "no way in hell HE wants or can achieve that." I have even found myself in my Claire's shoes a few times. And other times I have used my anger, hurt, or happiness for her. This chapter marks a huge moment for her, not saying in the future she won't change again *cough cough*, but this one really matters. So strangely enough, I dedicate this chapter to my love, and I hope that we can survive everything despite things said and done. I hope that in the end we make it together. And though he has no idea this story exists…

Love,

Your Little Dora

(I still don't think I look like her).

Lady Snowstorm: He, he, how many times has Wesker tried to resist?

under-the-wallflower: Oh yes there's no denying her change, especially when it comes to her ignoring the man Wesker truly is. I'm so glad that I inspired you! I wish you well in it and I'll definitely check it out.

Breathewithme: Thank you! A hint is someone will get very pissed.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you! I'm on break so hopefully I can pump them out at a steady pace.

NinMetro: But how long will he only tease ;)

Naoko Suki: Yes I loved writing that. I tried my hardest to picture her that way. For once Wesker has no idea… yet.

XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX: Yep poor Claire/Illyria is new with a sparkly, original virus. I understand; in high school I was at my worse with the mania I'm shocked I never got kicked out or arrested for the "property damage" to a desk I stripped and then threw the wood at people. I always labeled myself as depressed since I was too afraid to admit what was REALLY going on until I was told not to be ashamed and my physician applauded me for admitting EVERYTHING and I needed help and I needed a professional. My birth control has had my mania at mild for three years so I ignored it until the mood swings got too bad. Then my worst bout of depression and lethargy since high school is what did it for me. With mania you do feel more inspired, and since I don't want to lose that and gain pounds I'm happily on a baby dose of meds and I gradually desire to be around and talk to my friends again but the sleep debt is still an issue. My attention span is terrible, but I refuse to be medicated for ADHD when I am dealing with two diagnoses already. It's said we Bipolar people are all geniuses though so even though we don't get much done smile because we know we most certainly have the capability. People should stop being taught to be ashamed of this and if there's an event for Bipolar Awareness month here I'm attending. It's a mental illness but it's been called a gift, many of us are empaths, we're creative, and we just need someone to take the time with us to sit us down and say you can't work on this idea until you finish this one.

Marzipan: I hope your eye is all right! But I myself was never a fan of Ada. I guess it's her, "I'm so gawgous," attitude when she's just an annoying little stick with too-broad shoulders and a creepy voice that she sees as sexy. Like seriously would she approach a preschooler purring like a cat in heat? But when writing, I have to see it from the character's POV or be as impartial as possible. It'll get sweet for a bit but then trust me, Claire's going to make him _very, very _angry.

Pancoon: Thank you, thank you! I like focusing on what's going on between the characters. After all, it's about them.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, they belong to Capcom. I do however own this fic and the original characters.

Optio

Chapter 17: Anniversarium

December 30, 2001 Sunday 8:25 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil

Status: Glad to be on the ground

I think we'd been in four planes, the number of cars? I wasn't so sure. The whole time I had one bag since Wesker said all of our things would arrive at the hotel, and now I was shedding the one coat that I had yet to give to a homeless person wandering around the airports we'd visited. Seriously what were we gonna do with all of those coats as we got farther down south? Now Wesker was helping me out of the cab, not because I needed his help but because he was actually just a gentleman… at least with me.

I had the nerve to complain about being on my ass for so long until I noticed I was standing between two lit fountains with unbelievably blue water spouting into the air. A few families walked past me, apparently accustomed to such hotels, but I lingered there to take in the sight of what appeared to be a mini-jungle lining the walls of the orange building. A few brightly colored birds were dipping in and out of view, perching on a branch every now and then only to look around and take flight again. I secured my bag on my shoulder, staring into the glass, sliding doors leading inside, and it looked like the road to El Dorado from where I was standing. I heard Wesker speaking to the driver in Portuguese, and since that failed to tear my attention away from the sight inside I felt myself being led forward by my disobeying feet.

This wasn't just a hotel; it was a paradise, built right next to the ocean for the wealthy, vacationing families to have it all in one visit. Once inside I saw through the illusion, yet my eyes still perceived it as golden. Tall, white pillars ran up the sides of the walls, pretending to support the building, but I wouldn't deny the royal touch they added. Much of the middle of the lobby was taken up by a pond filled with fish all colors imaginable, hiding beneath lily pads while the larger ones lazily floated by. A large group of plants rested in the center of the pond, its leaves hanging out over it and providing shade.

Far up above me there was a window that went up into an arch, but all of the light of the city only allowed the view of a few stars.

"Illyria?" For a moment I had forgotten my alias, but then I quickly remembered and turned around, seeing Wesker's black jeans. I had been so swept up in the pond that I didn't realize I was kneeling down. With a smile I got to my feet and followed him to the front desk, letting my eyes take in the sight of the happy people coming to and fro while Wesker once more showed off his multi-lingual skills.

"Obrigado. Let's go Illyria." I figured he'd told the man at the front desk, "thank you," –I wouldn't know for I spoke not a syllable of Portuguese unless it was a shared, Spanish word- and he placed a hand on the small of my back, ushering towards the golden, elevator doors to the right. Inside the car I didn't hear your typical, elevator music; it had a Latin style to it, although I wasn't sure if it was considered Latin. Deciding to keep away from anything that may sound politically incorrect, I turned to look at my companion as he punched in the button with "32" on it.

That was a long way up. As the elevator rose I stared around the space that was quite large for elevator standards, and I finally realized that I had no idea of the name of this place. "Wesker? What's the hotel name?"

I heard a ding and he replied, "Kallista." As we made our way down the hallway I noticed that there weren't many doors, leading me to the conclusion that we were on our way to a suite that only Oprah could probably afford. We finally reached a door at the end of the hallway, and he used a keycard to open it. The light flashed green on the panel, and the lock clicked.

When he opened the door he held it so that I could enter first, proving that chivalry was still alive and well in Albert Wesker's world, but for a moment my previously eager feet refused to move. This man never ceased to amaze me with living quarters, and for some reason I believed that all of this wasn't for him, but for me. It was simple, yet gorgeous at the same time with black and white furniture in the main room. I stepped down onto a dark, wooden floor, mouth agape at how neat it was, and how much room we had.

The front room had a fifty inch plasma screen mounted on the wall, and one black, love seat in front of it. The white, marble coffee table looked more like art than a piece of furniture, possessing one curvy leg to hold it upright, and this entire room was sealed off from the other half of the suite. Without his permission I walked towards to black framed, French doors which were between a few sets of paneled windows of the same color, and beyond that to my right was a dining area with a table long enough for eight people. To the right of that was a bar, which unbelievably, I wasn't interested in, so I looked to the left at the bedroom.

I fought to urge to jump into the canopied, king-sized bed and instead looked in at the bathroom that was large enough for both a Jacuzzi bathtub that was set into the ground and shower that would fit probably six people. The floor and vanity were a swirl of white and tan marble making me smile at how warm it looked in contrast to the rest of the place, but it was all still beautiful nonetheless.

"Dear heart?" At Wesker's voice I turned to witness him opening another set of French doors to the right of the bed and I hurried over to him, only to once more feel my jaw drop.

"Are you fucking serious?" I whispered to myself.

"Language," he teased, smirking at my reaction. In the dark I could make out a few parasols over some beach chairs, but what really caught my eyes was the pool to the left, lighting up different colors every once in a while. If I looked over the balcony and saw what I think I'd see, I was certain I'd piss myself. When the blond saw that I wasn't going anywhere, he once more led me by placing his hand at the small of my back, still able to wring a shiver of delight out of me. Please don't pee, I thought over and over, feeling an uncontrollable surge of giddiness rise inside my chest as I looked over the city below, but more importantly I had the view of the ocean.

For a moment I was hesitant to sound so vain, but I needed to know. "Is this all for me?"

Instead of answering me he slid the bag that I forgot I was holding off of my shoulder and leaned down to kiss me for the first time in what felt like forever. Forgetting his reasons for depriving me of affection, I completely surrendered as he grabbed my ass to lift me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, hooking them at my ankles. He sat me on the balcony yet I trusted him. Yes I trusted Albert Wesker with my life at this moment, not even fearing the thirty-two story fall that sat almost directly below me.

He pulled away, breathing as hard and shallow as I was and his mouth was pink from our much-needed, little make-out session. "You trust me Redfield?"

Right then and there I could swear he was reading my mind, although as I teetered on the brink of long drop I guess it was the appropriate thing to wonder. I didn't fail to notice the significance in him calling me by my last name either. I, a Redfield allowed him to hold me so close to my death, without fear, without protest. "With my life Wesker." Quickly, he took me back inside, showing me just how fast he could be, and as he pulled back the canopy to lay me down I began to understand the hidden question within a question.

What he wanted to know was if I trusted him to not get me pregnant, to trust his estimation of time between my ovulations. I had not felt any different, the temperature change and need for sex that usually came with them, and so it must have meant that I would either experience them semi-annually or quarterly. But who cared about number crunching for the future when in the now I had one of the most dangerous, yet handsome men in the world nipping at the inside of my neck?

Our love-making (yes I called it that) was different tonight, yet it was almost like our first time but more passion was put into it. More thought. Inside the white veil of the canopy I felt secure, sexy almost when I imagined the image of our silhouettes as I rode him painfully slowly, my arms crossed over my head as he guided my hips. With my eyes closed it felt like I was in a state of ecstasy, and I ran my hands down my body until they met his.

Could it be that I was really here? Had I truly gone from being Claire Redfield: enemy of all things Umbrella? Did I really get to Sara Ivanov: unsure, only to evolve into Illyria Wishkar: Albert Wesker's woman? I cried out, the signal that told me the answer was yes.

_You can never be Claire Redfield again._

I wasn't a traitor, I wasn't a liar, because I wasn't her. I was someone my brother didn't teach me to be, I was a dark-haired vixen now, straddling the world's most wanted man. I was the kept woman of a criminal who I cared more about what he thought of me more than his deadly endeavors. The worst and most important thing I was? I liked it.

Fuck that, I loved it.

When a man so powerful, without any remorse for his actions offered you the world by the balls you were basically offered his power since your gifts were obtained with it. Would I stand by while he hurt people I loved? No. Would I still be drawn to him despite everything? Damn right.

Was it his power then that made him so alluring, his ability to get what he wished when he wished? Was I that sort of woman?

_Every woman is that sort of woman._

He sat up, we were chest to chest, and I threw my head back to allow him to place heated kisses over my throat. But I wanted to look him in the eye to let him know I wasn't denying him, I don't think I could if Chris asked me to my face.

What was this? Could this have been love? Could he even actually love me? It wasn't fucking, it wasn't fondness anymore, so what was this and how was it so powerful? Maybe I'd find out soon enough.

December 31, 2001 Sunday 9:13 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil

Status: In ecstasy

Warmth touched half of my back, and knowing that it was the Sao Paulo sun I grinned for the first time of the day. The veil had been pulled back and I managed to see that the doors to the balcony were open and naked as the day I was born I stepped out of the bed to let the rays of the sun warm the rest of my body. Out of habit I went to the bathroom where my toiletries were set out on the vanity, and I took in the sight of Miss Wishkar in the mirror. Purple bruises hugged me at the waist where Wesker had been holding me the night before, and I shrugged at them not being healed.

Busted blood vessels, the blood would have to clear out on its own. I didn't mind them though; they were a reminder of the night before. I tousled my newly, black hair and decided to draw a bath for myself, not at all being conservative with the bubbles. Once inside I was sure the only way I could be found was by my hair, but it didn't matter; it was about me right now since Wesker was probably off doing whatever he was doing.

Oh yes I was different, but I was still a Redfield at heart damn it and I'd figure it out, but Illyria wanted to intensify the feeling from last night with something to wind her muscles down.

For the rest of the morning I ignored the feeling of guilt I felt towards enjoying myself. I decided to do some yoga out by the pool and then I took up a beach chair and attempted to tan. I had been enjoying an afternoon nap on my stomach when I heard the hotel room door open, and with much force exerted, I got up to go greet Wesker. Also I wanted to show off my bright, blue bikini, and since my hormones were raging deep down inside I wanted for him to lose control.

"You're back," I said in a small voice, and I felt a blush make its way over my cheeks as he walked over to the bed, but when he pulled out a laptop I had to stop myself from frowning.

"Not for long," he confessed, and in true, Albert Wesker fashion he managed to keep anything close to regret from being heard in his voice. I took a seat behind his laptop and let my shoulders slump and gave a pout, but then again I knew that this was no vacation for him before we left. "Since you have little to do, and I suggest that you do not take part in the New Year's festivities for obvious reasons, I am leaving you with this."

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes I looked down to the black computer, and then back to him. "This is a better form of entertainment than the TV?"

His tone changed quickly, showing that he was in a hurry and he said, "Browse the internet, play Solitaire, something Claire." Then he leaned down to me, his voice dangerously low as he added, "Anything to keep you in this building." Swallowing hard, I realized that he was up to something dangerous, something that would possibly bring attention to his presence in South America.

"Okay," I whispered.

Still leaning down he raised a blonde eyebrow. "And Claire?" To show that I was listening I looked up into his shades, seeing the very rings of fire he attempted to hide with them. "Do not attempt to contact your friends." After I gave a small nod he stood up to leave once more, throwing over his shoulder, "If you do we will be found."

Even after I was sure he was on the elevator by now I stared at the doors leading to the living area, then I let my eyes roam to the laptop again. For a while I just glared at it, knowing that it had secrets locked away inside, and it was right there in front of me. I still wanted to know what he was up to; it wasn't like I'd sell out his information to anyone. No I was just curious. Looking around the room I felt silly, like there'd be secret cameras set up or something.

_Sounds like Wesker._

Turning the device around, I gently opened it, and pressed the button just under the screen. Breathing deeply, I brought my middle finger to the touchpad and brought the cursor to the icon with "A. Wesker" underneath it. Still, I had no idea what his password could even be, but maybe I did have an idea and didn't know it… If that made any sense at all.

Vane as it seemed I typed in my name, even inserting my middle name when just my first and last didn't do the trick. I tried "Tyrant," hell I even tried "STARS," and just when I thought I had exhausted all of my ideas I tried A-K-E-E-S-O.

Invalid. Maybe I was spelling it wrong, hell I knew nothing about the origin of my virus' name which meant that it was pretty much Greek to me. Well there was an idea. I went in under "Guest" and got online, typing in "Akeeso, Greek" in the search bar. "Did you mean 'Aceso, Greek?'" Yes I did, I answered to myself.

While I was there I decided to check out the significance behind the name. Aceso was the Greek goddess of the process of healing. So he'd actually put some thought into naming it… And it wasn't something dumb like "Tyrant." I was getting sidetracked

With the correct spelling in my head I tried "Aceso," and once more I was told that the password was invalid. Stupid Wesker and his stupid secure account. It was probably a random assortment of characters that looked like a serial number. Something like: IZ07456345. Still, it didn't matter to me what he said about contacting friends, it's not like they'd be able to locate me. So no longer fearing that he had some super human way to sense what I was up to, I went back into the guest account and attempted to sign into my email.

"Son of a bitch," I hissed at the message that popped up on the screen. I was blocked from all email services, and I doubted any proxy would do the trick if he thought this far ahead. Enraged, I shut off the laptop and slammed it closed, pushing it away from me while I folded my arms and huffed. The only way I could reach out to anyone would be if I could use someone else's computer. I just wanted for Chris to know that I was alive, and that I was sort of still me.

Even if it was the last time I ever said a word to him again, he just needed to know that I was okay, and that he didn't need to worry.

With a stronger sense of determination I hopped up from the bed, reminding myself that we were on the top floor in a suite. There was at least one other room up here, and if they could afford it then they definitely had to have a laptop. I quickly slipped on a shirt and shorts, grabbing my room key at the last second just before I exited the room. Since the hallway didn't consist of twists and turns galore I easily found the door to the other suite down the hall on the other side of the elevator. I swallowed hard, and knocked on the door with what I liked to think of as an, "appropriate knock."

From outside I heard the sound of heavy footsteps and an eager looking man with an over-baked tan and a 70s porn star mustache that I swore was penciled on flung the door open.

At my startled gaze he quickly said, "So sorry miss I was expecting room service!" At least he spoke English, though with an unmistakable Australian accent, but for some reason I got the vibe that he was working on Americanizing himself.

"Is that room service?" Behind him a petite blonde popped up, but she didn't seem disappointed by my presence in the least bit, instead she greeted me with the same accent that her partner possessed. "Hi, you must be the mysterious suite neighbor!"

_Don't you always meet the friendliest people?_

Not knowing what else to do I gave a single laugh. "I'm sorry to bother you but I was wondering if maybe you guys had a laptop I could use? My 'significant other' took his out with him." It felt odd calling him that but what else would he have been, especially since he didn't give me a quick briefing of my "character." It was mostly up to me in this situation, and I would have been able to call him my fiancé at least if I hadn't left behind the ring he gave me.

"Of course!" the man almost shouted, shaking me from my thoughts, and he ushered me into the suite that was identical to our own. "I'm Ronnie," he informed me as he shut the door, and this is my girlfriend Sharon."

Awkwardly, I shook both their hands and gave my alias with a bit too much confidence. "I'm Illyria Wishkar."

"Ooh," they said in unison, looking to each other. Oh God I prayed they didn't ask any questions I wasn't prepared to answer. It was obvious I was American so maybe they'd refrain from asking about my origins, especially since asking where my parents were from would be pretty personal for this first meeting.

"Well, the laptop's over here on the coffee table," Ronnie said, and I waited for him to walk me to it seeing as it would be rude to just make myself at home when I knew I certainly wouldn't be returning. I waited as he started it up for me and Sharon announced that she was going to take a shower, politely telling me how nice it was to meet me. It seemed that they were interested in privacy as much as I was myself. "I don't mean to be inhospitable but we have a party to attend so I need to get ready. If your need anything just shout."

"It's all right. And thanks." When he left I had to admit that I was happy, the fake smile was beginning to hurt my cheeks. To finish this as quickly as possible I decided to send a message that got the point across. "Chris, I'm okay. I love you big brother." I was ready to hit the send button when a thought crossed my mind that should have hit me before. The ring that I had forgotten about for so long, it was in my jewelry box at home.

_At home, along with the five hundred dollar dresses and jeans. With the all of your fancy trinkets from Wesker._

I pulled my hands back from the keyboard as if I had been burned, feeling a knot form in my chest once it hit me that my brother had all the evidence he needed to consider me an enemy. If he could indeed track me down from this email then he would, and not only would he come, he would forever disown me as his sister. Maybe I didn't want to see it before but now it hit me square in the face that Chris may have been my blood, but if he had finally accepted the things that I could have possibly done then I was no longer his sibling. Chris, I said to myself, feeling the hurt already just at imagining him finding me, knowing everything that I had hoped would be kept from him.

As much as my body fought me, I touched my index finger to the delete button, watching my note disappear letter by letter. What if he had really needed that reassurance though? Pushing that thought to the very back of my mind I logged out of my account with the resolve to not cry around these strangers. There was no way that I could confide in them without Wesker looking like an enemy, or without looking suspicious myself. They'd just be wasting their breath anyhow since their advice wouldn't help me at all when my complaint would consist of distorted facts.

As my account logged out I was returned to the home screen of the website where a notice caught my eye. "Strange Attacks Reported in Amparo." This site was set to report the news of the surrounding area so that meant that Amparo was near, and usually when Wesker was in an area where strange attacks occurred… I clicked on the link, trying to force myself not to remember the deaths that he had been responsible for.

"Amparo has been the latest village to report an unusual rash of attacks and illnesses, the first being the Amazonian village of Mixcoatl where a mysterious string of disappearances has been plaguing the town. It has been released that the incidences are most likely related due to the sudden occurrence of aforementioned happenings after the arrival of a villager from Mixcoatl, stating that "demons" were beginning to take over the neighboring village. Because of drug Lord, Javier Hidalgo's strict control over the area it has proved futile to attempt to reach the village for investigation. "

"What the hell?" I muttered, attempting to search for any other mentions of these events, but there was nothing else in English. Something was going on in South America all right, and though in the beginning I attempted to convince myself that Wesker's intentions were harmless, I knew now that there was a possibility that I was dead wrong. "Javier Hidalgo." Man of power in an undeveloped village? It was a start.

December 31, 2001 Sunday 11:30 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil

Status: Wary

For the rest of the day I had been worrying myself silly over my recent discovery, but to push it aside at least for a while I had ordered a shit load of room service. Though I didn't need the food, I did need something to do other than make myself sick to my stomach with the thought that Wesker could be up to no good under my very nose. At eleven I decided to slip into bed, hoping that somehow I could get to sleep. I had been half asleep when I heard the bedroom door open, but I chose to feign sleep even when he went outside to take a call.

The moonlight cast shadows on the wall in front of me and I reminded myself to take long, deep breaths to make my act believable.

"Yes? I am in Sao Paulo. Have you heard from Hidalgo?" At the confirmation that he was involved, I squeezed my eyes together even tighter, gripping the sheets beneath me. "No, no. Take no action. I would like to see how this plays out. Keep me updated."

The doors shut and he returned to the front room, turning on the television to what I assumed was a news station. Panicked voices floated from the room as I lie awake with wide eyes, and the calm voice of a news anchor brought an end to the rapidly spoken Portuguese. Once more on New Year's Eve I made a deal with the devil, thinking that things would turn out well, and I was proven wrong once more.

_Happy anniversary, Claire._

A/N: Honestly I should have updated a lot over the break but I haven't. I had actually been more depressed and not wanting to do anything even still. I'm really sick of feeling this way and my break's over. Drama has been abounding, feeling sick, and we've suffered a loss. Sucks. Anyway, I hope this didn't come off as forced. Also, I'm glad SOPA failed, to those fat cats that were pushing it, next time you try to push it under a different name, "SUE ME."


	18. Monstrum

A/N: I changed the title from "salire" for "jump to "monstrum" for "monster," thanks to a Nietzsche quote. Sorry I've only slowly been getting back into feeling like writing. And I've been doing homework, homework, and homework! I had a freaking English paper due one week then the next my English midterm. I had to get certain assignments done before my birthday which just passed and I have hit the big 2-1. I was also dying with a fever but I still had fun even if it was just with my brother and boyfriend. And the real party was the casino! Whoo-hoo! Anyhow, there's my excuse for my absence. And as a note, Claire does something else we wouldn't expect in this chapter.

Lady Snowstorm: It's been so long I forgot too O_O

Naoko Suki: Claire needs a break, but according to the RE timeline and her placement here because she's the main character… no break for her. Yes, death to SOPA and ACTA.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you! I'll be trying!

Breathewithme: I don't want to be so secretive so no, Chris isn't gonna see Claire again for a while. However, if Claire is spotted are we sure that someone would keep a secret?

Purgatory Nymph: I know it would have greatly impacted Fanfiction sites and things like YouTube and Tumblr. It's funny because my bf hates Wesker but little does he realize… he can be as much as an insensitive, over-ambitious ass at times. And he's working on some secret project with some strangers regarding longevity that he won't tell me about. It actually sounds weird. And thanks I'm getting there!

NinMetro: Awe, thank you! Hopefully this chapter is great since I've been having some insomnia issues. Other than that, it's been good on my end.

elevenzombiezz: Thank you! And here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or the characters, Capcom does. I do own the original characters and this fic though… just not with the little "c."

Optio

Chapter 18: Monstrum

January 5, 2002 Friday 3:42 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil

Status: Bored

"What's this for?" I stared at the black, flip-phone confusedly, holding it as if at any moment I expected it to bite.

"A precaution." His inability to give a straightforward answer did not irk me more than the human ping pong game he was playing right now, darting from one side of the room to the next as he stuffed a brief case. I didn't know where he was going; all I knew was that the New Year's festivities proceeded without me as I stared from above at a flurry of pink, blue, and green bobbing up and down. For that I hated him, and I won't lie, I had been refusing to have sex with him since then. Yes, somehow mortal-me managed to resist… whatever the hell it was that was so irresistible about him.

Playing with the black object I asked, "You sure you trust me with this thing?"

Ever-prepared (especially for my knack to fuck things up), he replied, "It only calls my phone and receives calls from me."

Before I threw the cell at him in frustration I put two and two together: a cell phone and packing. "Are we in danger?"

"We have never been out of danger for a second Claire."

Absent-mindedly I breathed, "Right." Since I'd get no answers from him about what was going on I plopped back on the bed, staring up ceiling while biting my bottom lip. I hadn't been able to find out much else about whatever was happening in Amparo and Mixcoatl. It was like everything was being silenced which didn't really surprise me at all. Maybe it was contained, but since I had experience with this type of thing, I knew it wouldn't stay that way. The sound of Wesker's footsteps fading made me jolt up. "Hey! When will you be back?" It seemed like a better choice in questioning since, "Where are you going?" would yield nothing but a smirk or a smart-ass answer.

For a moment he stood at the door, staring back at me thoughtfully, and if it weren't for his shades obstructing my view I probably would have seen the worry that was affecting his body language and mood. "Claire, be careful. And call me if there is anything you need."

As he shut the door behind him the sappy side of me fought the urge to chase him down and declare that I needed him. I was lonely here and it started to feel like I was in a controlling relationship with the constant moving and tearing me away from my life back home. Oh wait, me being unable to keep my legs closed was the reason for that. Just when I was dedicated to being Illyria, I was given reason to question my decision. I got up and went to look at my touched-up hair and once more marveled at how different I looked, and how torn I was between the new me, and the old.

January 5, 2002 Friday 5:36 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil

Status: Frustrated

"Mixcoatl. Ye-yes!" This man spoke three languages and not one of them was English, and though I had no right to be upset with him for speaking his native tongue maybe he should have just stopped trying and let me off of the phone. "I NEED A WAY TO MIXCOATL."

"No way," he replied quickly, happy that he knew a few words of help.

"Amparo?"

"Roads closed."

As I rubbed my forehead in exasperation I said, "Gracias," and hung up. "Por nada," I grumbled under my breath, eyeing the drinks under the bar. One more call before that, I thought to myself, and in my last effort to find a way into one of the villages on my map I snatched up the receiver. There was no dial tone. "Son of a bitch." My muttering would not fix the phone though, and I slipped on a pair of flip-flops before heading downstairs to attempt to effectively complain. Something felt off in the hotel, something that was subtle but it was there, and I quickly headed to elevator.

It came up with a ding and I entered with my arms folded, determined to remain pouty until I got to the front desk, which was getting hard to do since my "spidey-senses" kept tingling. In my blurred reflection my expression was one of suspicion rather than irritation, but I worked on setting my lips back into their straight line. My journey was halfway over when I felt the car stop abruptly, and despite it being a dramatic move I grabbed hold of the railing and looked up at the red box numbers. Then I heard the ding arrival, knowing somehow that this stop wasn't a request by someone wanting to make a cafeteria run. My body tensed, my feet set into the carpet and my teeth ground together.

The doors slid open slowly, and I waited for someone to enter, or attack me. No one was there, but what bothered me the most was that the door didn't close. With a sense of urgency I thumbed away at the "close doors" button, receiving no result, the doors just remained wide open, and it felt like somewhere someone was hinting that I should exit. My body shook with fear and anxiety as I finally relaxed my muscles, and I instantly regretted it as I realized that maybe keeping the energy contained would have prohibited me from walking on noodle-legs. You know how you can feel when there are other people around even if you can't see them? Well right now this whole fucking floor was feeling deserted, and never in my entire life had I been in a deserted motel even.

Not a sound reverberated in the halls, not even my movements, although the carpet muted any chance of that happening anyhow. As I turned right to head to the stairwell, I noticed that every room door was cracked, but I couldn't bring myself to look until I had one last chance before my descent downstairs. Swallowing the lump in my throat I pushed open the door to my left, not a creak made by the well-oiled hinges, and that honestly made the moment even eerier. The whole room was white, pristine, and it looked like no one had even been staying in there.

_Turn back._

I pushed that voice to the back of my mind as I stepped into the room, standing still as I listened for any sign of life. My face scrunched up into a frown as I heard a faint scratching noise coming from within the room, but I had no idea where it had originated. As I listened harder a pattern was established, and I traced the sound to the closet set into the wall in front of the bed. It wasn't easy for me to just walk up and slide back the doors though, not when I had a past that involved things popping out at me. I must have been having an out of body experience because I could see myself slowly progressing toward the doors, my eyes as big as saucers.

As I stupidly croaked out, "Hello?" the doors were in front of me again, and like that idiotic blonde in a horror movie I grabbed hold of one of the door knobs and threw it back. I reflexively clasped my hands to my mouth so hard that I pressed my lip into my right front tooth. Tasting blood was the farthest thing from my mind as I screamed in a pitch I didn't know my vocal cords would dare to reach. My chest heaved while my legs became jello again, that shaky feeling taking over me again. The scratching had stopped, but only because the body had nothing to rub against now.

The corpse was fresh, so fresh that the only discoloration was from his apparent suffocation and the red ring around his neck from the rope. He was a white male, dressed like a man comfortable in his environment, nowhere near tourist. His simple white, tee looked like he had just put it on, his blue jeans worn and ripped around the knees, and his brown, cowboy boots had seen many rodeo. I could only wonder what drove him to this, and if his suicide was cause for evacuation of this floor. It still would not explain my phone going out though, or the elevator stopping here.

Usually I saw people like him as weak, but for some reason I reached up to his jeans' pocket to search for identification. Seeing the outline of a wallet I reached for the mouth of the pocket with my index finger hooked, worried about disturbing him even in the smallest way possible. I felt the texture of leather and moved to get my thumb in, almost there…

I raspy sound emitted from above me, causing me to look upward. A single, clouded gray eye stared down at me, and my mouth slightly opened to release a small clicking noise that had originated in my throat. Before the undead had time act I pulled my arm back, only for him to catch hold of it on its way back. As his nails ripped away strips of skin, I cried out, his response a throaty, "Augh!" His legs dangled wildly as he reached at me with both hands, unaware that his noose prevented him from getting to me. As I nursed my wounds I kicked the closet door closed and ran from the room, shutting the door behind me.

I choked out a sob as I rested against the door, hearing the choked moans of the room's previous occupant. Inhaling a deep breath, I looked at my forearm, seeing the wound bleed out more profusely than it should have, and then I felt a burning sensation that started as nothing before becoming so strong that I threw myself to the fucking carpet. I managed to squelch the scream that rightfully wished to come out, forcing my eyes open to watch my wound mend itself, the burning finally settling into a persistent throbbing feeling. What the hell would this do to me? If he was a zombie then would this change me?

I needed to get in touch with Wesker.

I jumped to my feet only to feel my back automatically arch, my stomach jumped uncomfortably and I retched painfully. I had nothing to throw up. My stomach refused to settle and I knew there was no way I could climb back up to my room. Weakened, I threw myself to the stairwell door, noticing a cart with a covered dish in the corner to the left. I threw the silver top off of the plate saw that it was two tuna sandwiches, but it was better than nothing. As I stuffed a sandwich into my mouth I thought of how ridiculous I must have looked: eating to throw up. And as soon as the first sandwich was down my stomach lurched again, forcing me to puke into the carpet next to me.

I spit a few times to get the slimy feeling and bile out of my mouth, now ready to eat the second sandwich with the hopes of keeping it down to keep the hunger that would soon hit me at bay.

"Thank God," I gasped, no longer feeling the need to purge, but still feeling the throbbing sensation beneath my skin. Now I could finally get downstairs, though not as quickly as I had intended, but the point is that I made it. I was ready to leave the stairwell and turn the corner into the lobby when I saw everyone near the center, murmuring to one another in confusion. Then a gang of men in black closed in on them, fully automated guns at the ready. The desk clerk that Wesker spoke with the first night was forced to stand in front of the massive crowd, his arms behind his back, possibly held in place by handcuffs.

Whoever these men were, they weren't playing games, and I knew that their presence here was not coincidental with the hanging zombie upstairs. No this was all connected and they were probably what Wesker was worried about earlier, but of course he couldn't say anything to me without giving away his knowledge about the incidents in Mixcoatl and Amparo. Just as I decided to slowly head back upstairs, the man behind the desk clerk pulled off his mask, his blond hair sticking straight up.

"You, translate!" he shouted, jabbing the desk clerk in the back with his weapon. "This hotel is now under quarantine!"

The man managed to sputter out his translation, his eyes moving left to right for some sign of hope, and I prayed that he didn't see me and give away my position behind the plant.

"No one is to leave the hotel until we say so. This is now a military operation." I noticed that he spoke with an American accent, but how in the hell could the US military declare a quarantine on South American soil? There was no way that the South American government knew anything about this in order for this to have come about. That man that was infected must have come from Amparo, and since the Calvary was called in it was more than likely that he wasn't the only one infected. As a matter of fact I don't think anyone knew about the man upstairs other than myself, and I had no way to kill him so what if he got down and surprised someone who entered the room during a sweep.

I knew how out of hand these things could get just by one person being infected, and for a graceless, bumbling corpse they were quite light on their feet. Perhaps I had a duty to get rid of the one that I found, but I had no way to do that, no weapon and I didn't wish to risk using a knife since just a scratch gave me what was akin to an allergic reaction that still had me tingly. For now adrenaline kept me going, but I could feel that last tuna sandwich being bounced around inside of my stomach.

"We are looking for a man named Albert Wesker." This regained my attention, and I squinted at a small picture he held up, despite not being able to see it the small spots of yellow and black told me that it was his picture. "We have reason to believe that he is here."

I wanted to stay and listen more but before I was spotted I decided to head back upstairs, losing my breath a few times before reaching the top floor. I had no choice though since an elevator ride was out of the question. I wanted to take a moment to breathe like an out of shape fat man once I was in the hallway, but I knew that I needed to get to that cell phone and call Wesker. He managed to save me from the military before why wouldn't he be able to now? Though I felt bad about the people downstairs there was nothing that I could do for them, and I knew their fate: because a few were infected, all of them would be killed. I truly did wish to save them, but I had no help so how could I take on a whole force or gun-toting military dogs?

The thought of leaving them to die was killing me, but I kept on towards my room. The door was cracked, making me wary; too bad I didn't have a choice but to enter. There wasn't really anywhere to hide, so when I saw the front room was empty I immediately headed to the bedroom to grab the phone off of the counter. Just as I was about to pick it up I felt hard steel pressed up against the middle of my back, the owner of the gun breathing so raggedly that I knew he was nervous. His incompetence could be used to my advantage, maybe he was such a rookie that I could even get away with knocking him and not going the whole nine yards and killing him.

"Put your hands where I can them." His command demonstrated more confidence than he actually possessed, but I followed his order nonetheless.

"Okay, let's just stay calm-"

"Turn around!" he yelled back, apparently taking offense to my obvious attempt at patronizing him. His mask was off, more than likely against advisement by his C.O. , but it just proved how dumb he really was. His hair was brown and cut in the usual required buzz-cut, a style that did not really fit him at all. However now was not the time for me to be assessing his physical characteristics, I needed to knock him out or something. He grabbed at his walkie, clutching it for dear life as he pressed the red button. "Sir I've found one of the missing suite occupants. A woman."

"Name?" the walkie crackled back.

Rather than use his ability to speak he jabbed his pistol into my chest, getting an "oomph" of discomfort from me, and almost my lunch. "Illyria," I ground out, eying the knife strapped to his side. "Wishkar," I added when he didn't say anything.

"Illyria Wishkar is the occupant sir."

Quickly he received a, "Bring her down if she passes examination Kessler."

"On it." He tossed his walkie onto the bed and put his gun away, pulling out a small pen-light before grabbing hold of my jaw. "Hold still."

Fed up with his fucking faked arrogance I asked, "You lack social skills you know that?"

"Shut the fuck up." His grip tightened painfully, and I was momentarily blinded as he checked both of my eyes for a sign I never noticed an infected person had. As I tried to force the blue dots to disappear he pulled a thermometer from God knows where –maybe his ass- and stuck it in my ear. It beeped quickly and his eyes widened at the display. Not because he cared but maybe because it was protocol he asked, "Have you had the flu or could you be pregnant?"

"Maybe," was my smart-ass reply, but he knew that by my answer it was a definite "no."

"Have you recently been bitten or scratched by anyone during your stay here?"

I had to stop myself from glancing at the three, jagged red lines that discolored my skin on my forearm, and it was even harder to keep myself from trying to hide it. If I was found to be infected he would kill me right away, something I gathered from his last order. "No," I answered, trying to blink just once, fearing that there was no way Aceso would bring me back from a gunshot to the noggin.

You ever feel like people just know the exact thing you're trying to hide and where it's located? Well that's how I felt right now, and I became hotter than my usual 103 temperature when he grabbed my arm, inspecting the red marks beneath my skin. His hand was moving for his gun, but he stopped when his fingers were just inches from it.

"Wait," he whispered, "I know you." My eyes snapped wide open, as did his. "You're Claire Redfield." In a moment of poor judgment he turned slightly to reach for his discarded walkie-talkie, putting his knife in reach, and I snatched it from his holster. As he realized his fatal mistake he looked startled, turning and giving me an angle with I could use. With no thought of the future, I swung the knife, the blade slicing across his throat gaining a gasp that could now never become a yell. A few spurts or blood almost landed on me, coming out in burst that matched his heart beat (rapidly) his gloved hands grabbing at his fatal injury.

His hazel eyes never left me as he fell to the floor; his death was quick, making me feel even worse since I managed to completely sever his carotid and jugular arteries. Someone I had become a killer, just because he identified me I slit his throat, ending his life without knowing if he had a family back home. The room was completely silent now with just me, and once I snapped out of my daze I snatched up the cell and hit the dial button. After just one ring he answered.

"Claire?" My voice was caught in my throat as I stared down at the body of a man I only knew as Kessler. I couldn't dispose of a fucking zombie, but I could without question murder a living person. "Claire?"

"Wesker the military's here!" I blurted out quickly, and once the word vomit started it just wouldn't stop. "There was a man here and he ID'd me, he knew I was Claire Redfield so I-I…" As my voice cracked hot tears rolled down my face onto the blood-stained carpet, "I killed him Wesker. I fucking slit his throat and I didn't have to!" As my knees buckled beneath me I fell right into the crimson splotched carpet, not wanting to move, but to curl up in a ball somewhere and realize that this was just a dream. A sick night terror brought on by being around someone who did this kind of thing all of the time.

In a surprising event he offered words of comfort. "You did what you had to do. And right now Claire you must get out of there."

"They're in the lobby how can I get out?"

There was a moment of silence on the other line, but it was not pensive on his part, he could feel my shame, anxiety, fear, and everything else through the phone. "Do you have your debit card?"

"Yes," I whispered back, staring into the cold, listless stare of my… victim.

"Get your ID." I'm sure he heard the shuffling as I grabbed it from the nightstand drawer; he had to have since he continued his instructions when the noise ceased. "Now you must trust me and do as I say." There was a pause, a time I used to nod even though he couldn't see it. "You must jump Claire."

I was hesitant to do many things, but I couldn't argue this fast enough. "I can't possibly survive that. I don't even know if my bones will heal from that." And if they did I'd expect a goddamned hippo for dinner later.

"The ocean is not being monitored and the balcony reaches over the shallow area. You have only once choice and that is jump and swim for the net. A boat is waiting for you." He had an idea this would happen today and did take me with him? "If you do not jump Claire there is no way that I will be able to retrieve you again."

So I'm wanted dead? "Okay," I conceded, seeing no other way to get out of this. The worst case scenarios were either I earned a belly-flop from hell or they saw me.

"Gustavo will bring you to me. Do not leave the phone behind. I will see you shortly." Without a goodbye the line went dead, and I wished he would have been kind enough to throw out a, "Good luck" at least. I suppose now he was trying to avoid awkwardness rather than create or ignore it. I stuffed the phone into my pocket, glad that these shorts were tight enough to keep any contents from escaping. I looked to the balcony, and back to Kessler, kneeling down. Gritting my teeth I pulled his glove from his left hand, finding no ring, something that only took away a quarter of my guilt which was half of what I'd feel later.

In a swift movement I snatched his dog tags from around his neck, and I wondered why I so afraid of being gentle with a corpse. "John Kessler," I said, stuffing them into my pocket.

Behind me the walkie-talkie crackled. "Kessler are you own your way back down?" My signal to take the plunge -pun intended- had come, and I kicked off the flip-flops I had been wearing. I slipped on the running shoes I kept just under the bed, knowing that if I didn't want to rip off my toe I'd need them. Before I dared to start my running jump I looked over the edge, finding Wesker's assessment to be true, but I was still afraid. How dumb that I didn't worry about our bed dropping off into the ocean but I was afraid of a leap that would be successful. As I back away to the far end of the balcony I heard the walkie crackle again, but I looked straight ahead, readying myself against the surface behind me.

My stomach was ahead of me, leaping before I even did, but with a deep breath I kept my eye on the ledge. A voice in my head said, "Go," and I pushed off, feeling adrenaline rush through me as my brain knew what was next. I felt light as a feather as I swiftly approached the ledge, and with precise timing I jumped up onto the stone. I turned my ankle down, grabbing the ledge with both hands for a split second, and I let go as I propelled myself forward with my right foot. It felt like it was all happening in slow motion as I flew forward, my arms outstretched as I felt the wind carry me for a bit. Once I felt my body going nowhere but down, I bent my torso, my hands above my head while I jack-knifed into the blue water below me. I didn't look as the water approached me; just shut my eyes as forever finally reached its end.

The cool ocean enveloped my body, and I opened my eyes to see a submerged, foggy view. Instantly I twisted upward, instinctively knowing which way it was, and I swam until emerged, gasping for the breath I forgot to take before diving in. I had gotten turned around in my twisting, and I saw the side of the hotel. My longing stare was brought to an end once I heard a gunshot, followed by screams that were muffled by the walls. Turning, I saw a white dingy just outside the shark net and I only knew where it began because of the orange torpedo floats. If that thing was broken and a fucking shark took me out… Just one more fear to add to the list.

A pudgy man with bronze skin waved at me with both hands, and just so that he would stop I swam over to him, getting to the boat quicker than I anticipated. He let down the boat ladder, pulling me up after just climbing two rungs. In helping me he ended up getting his white tee wet, but he only wrapped a towel around me.

"Welcome aboard," he said with a nod, his accent not at all thick. "I'm assigned to take you to Wesker." So he knew his real name.

"Where are we going?" I dared to ask.

Before he went man the boat he replied, "Ubatuba."

When he was far enough away I muttered, "Never heard of it." As long as it got me to the only man who could keep me safe, I was all right. I just wish the same could have been said for John Kessler. I couldn't believe I murdered a man for identifying. Somehow I had become what I feared the most, and now being Illyria was not as fun as I had thought it would be. Under my second alias I killed unnecessarily, so what if he told them he'd seen Claire Redfield if I was leaving anyhow? As the boat started I took a seat on deck, looking back upward from where I had leapt, knowing my latest mistake was just above.

Then I remembered something Chris had said to me long ago, and although I knew that he had heard it elsewhere I could only think of his face as I whispered to the suite above, "He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." And he was right.

A/N: Review and I'll start on the next chapter right away. Electrical difficulties are keeping us out of school this week and next week is spring break so I have time!


	19. Lues

A/N: I'm back. Finals were over almost a month ago and senior year is coming up. Also I've found out that my dog has heart worms so I'm definitely burnt out which is why I dropped my summer courses for some relaxation. Just very tired right now. However the B I got in math has me proud. And I warn you, I got XBox Live a month ago and I've been spending an incredible amount of time playing Left 4 Dead. I just bought the second one so I'm like addicted and serious about it. And "lues" is Latin for "plague" if I didn't mention that!

Breathewithme: Thank you! Glad I could get the whole chapter up.

Naoko Suki: She can't save them all. And it's only a matter of time before she gets that.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you, I'll try to gain a steady pace. No promises though! I'll FINALLY have to start working again.

SolRflare: Thank you so much! Unfortunately I've done just that :(

Deviliam: Love your site name. Thank you and I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Lady Shiva: Incoming for an update.

super happy anon: Thank you! No I couldn't keep them in the labs for long. I get bored easily and we gotta keep it moving. Thank goodness Capcom keeps stuffing crap into the timeline. However, I will not be adding Degeneration into this. Still haven't watched it. Debating on going back on my word about RE 5 though, may or may not and if I do there's gonna have to be a huge twist.

CeavaRose: Awe, thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Marzipan: Awe thank you for sticking around!

Haru: SORRY! I will let you know that it's not much to worry about.

Optio

Chapter 19: Lues (Plague)

January 5, 2002 Friday 3:12 PM

Subject: Redfield, Chris

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Hopeless

My mind was reeling as I read over the documents I had received from Sergei, and to make things worse my last attempt at catching Wesker was a bust. Along with that went my chance of finding Claire, but I didn't even know if I wanted to find her after seeing what I had saw. According to the medical report Claire had been pregnant when she was taken into CDC custody, and inside I had a feeling of who the father was. When I was here with her, talking to her, asking her questions, the whole time she had been hiding that the man who hurt her –betrayed her- was the very man who had done the same to my comrades. My baby sister, I thought to myself, turning the ring over in my hand, the ring she had left behind in her box of jewelry that she could not have possibly attained on her own.

Jill had learned a thing or two from her father, and one of those skills was appraisal of jewelry. It was worth about ten thousand dollars, more money than Claire ever had in her bank account at one time, and it took Jill's patience and love for me for me to understand and finally accept it: my sister was with Wesker. The "with" whose definition fell under that of the biblical sense, and for all I knew she was carrying his child with the hope and desire to be a mother. And worst of all I was with her while she held that abomination. Despite Jill's protests again my anger I couldn't lie: had I known I would have cut it from her womb myself, removing a big problem from the world.

"Chris," Jill whispered, "you wouldn't have aborted your sister's baby."

It didn't matter how much stronger I had gotten, my desire to crush the ring in my hand wasn't enough to make it so, instead I just tossed it back into the box of tainted goods. "If I could in some way keep another Wesker from being born into this world then yes I would."

"Chris!" Jill startled me when her hand shot out to grab my arm. "That baby would be a part of your parents. A part of Claire. And therefore a part of you."

"Yet the bad would outweigh the good…"

After a moment of silence she said, "I made contact with Leon. He shared what he could." My silence was an indicator for her to continue, and although it was rude she knew that I was in a dark place right now with very little patience left even to muster a reply. "He said that the presence of B.O.W.'s is a strong possibility."

"We should be down there."

"It's a government operation Redfield, we can't step foot into anything staked as their territory and you know that they have shaky relations with the BSAA as is." Then she said what I had been thinking. "And it seems that they have different viewpoints on the virus than we do." Once more she fell silent, my refusal to speak was probably killing her, and the last thing I wanted was for Jill to cry because of my hatred towards another person. "Chris…"

Finally, I looked into her eyes, seeing the worry and the question that lingered between us. Jill looked so tired lately and I think my constant hunt for Wesker was partly to blame for that, something I could never fully apologize for simply because no words or actions could make up for it. We had attempted to have some sort of life other than combating Bio-terrorism but the trend was catching on so quickly that we hardly had time. Another issue was that I refused to leave Claire's apartment in my spare time, and Jill wouldn't even let me touch her once we were inside these walls. I didn't blame her.

"What's wrong?" I asked, figuring that, "Yeah?" or "What?" would have been too impolite.

She licked her pink lips and crossed her arms over her chest. "Would you really rather her be in CDC custody, or on the run with Wesker?" I blinked hard, knowing my answer, and that it would have sounded far too crazy for me to admit to. "They would kill her Chris."

I remembered what Sergei said to me, hating Claire even more for opening this Pandora's Box. "No. They wouldn't."

January 5, 2002 Friday 7:12 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Ubatuba, Brazil

Status: Sick

By the time we'd reached Ubata…. something or other it was pouring down, and Gustavo had no slickers, but then again I needed the salt washed from my body. The cold rain brought on by the storm still couldn't substitute the steaming, hot bath I'd be taking as soon as I got into the cabin we were headed to. The modesty of the place surprised me, but this was only a blurred view of the outside that I was getting. Once we were under the porch I almost fixed my hair, for a split second forgetting that it was matted and sticking all over my face. Like I didn't even know the man inside, I knocked quickly, not even hearing him come to the door. I knew that he was inside though, the glow from within the cabin told me that, and Wesker never wasted electricity.

I think he was a global warming believer.

The door opened fully, as Wesker allowed us inside, a thick rug greeting us that I think was meant more for Gustavo, though I was the one with mud-caked feet. Oh God where was the bathroom? "Wesker," I began, feeling my body lunge forward to hug him, but I stopped when I remembered that I was soaked to the bone.

Surprisingly, he cupped my cheeks in his hands and placed his forehead to mine, a simple moment that managed to steal my breath away. "The master bedroom is down that hall to the right."

With a nod, I gave a small smile, finding it cute that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I didn't take in much of the front room; I just knew that this shell-colored tiling wasn't Wesker's usual preference for décor. The simple, claw-footed tub made me miss Red Lodge's luxuries, but I just focused on getting out of the sopping wet clothes I had on, throwing them into the basket that served as a hamper in the corner of the bathroom. The hot water running over my skin was so amazing that I decided to sit under the stream, watching the dirt from my feet swirl down the drain. The fact that I had questions for Wesker was lost right now because getting from under this water was going to be the hardest thing to do.

After maybe half an hour I decided to drag myself out of the tub, drying myself off and putting on a robe that was waiting for me on the towel rack. I approached the white sink and looked into the mirror that served as the medicine cabinet's door, my skin was so much more bronze than before, and my new, black hair complimented this look. To be honest I had no idea that I could tan so beautifully since I was sort of a redhead, but maybe not being a full-on ginger with zero freckles helped. A sharp pain in my arm caught my attention, and I remembered that I had been scratched by someone infected with T.

I rolled up the sleeve, that hid my wound, and I was shocked to see that the veins beneath my skin were a bright red color. As if on cue, they started burning, and yes I could feel the searing pain course through each individual one. Grinding my teeth I grabbed onto my arm, pressing down on the vessels with all my might in hopes that it would divert the pain. Before it got any worse I ran for the door that would lead me to the bedroom, bursting through it so quickly that I even shocked Wesker who had been sitting on the bed, facing the other door.

When I fell to my knees he jumped up, rushing to my aid immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked, easily picking me up from the carpeted floor before lying me down on the bed.

I rolled onto my side and lifted up my arm, his eyes quickly finding the afflicted area. "Someone infected with T…" I figured a full explanation wasn't necessary, and that from the three red lines he could understand what had happened.

"You need to eat."

This didn't surprise me at all, but what did surprise me is that Danger-Prone Claire would be okay despite the fact that Aceso was fighting off one of the most devastating viruses I'd ever seen. Still, it was strange to know that if injured, my body would heal me, only requiring a few pounds of food to continue on after straining itself. As it turned out though, Wesker was right; after eating over half the contents of his refrigerator I felt much better, although the marks were still present on my arm.

"In a few days you should be completely- fine." For the first time in a long time I heard Wesker get tripped up in his words. Sure normal wasn't a word to describe me now, it was too soon to start calling it that, but maybe in a few years I could say that healing in a matter of minutes was normal. For now, fine would be the best way to describe my condition, and he seemed willing to oblige. Yet that in itself was off seeing as he did what he wanted, and he did not pick and choose words or battles based on the affect it would have on another. Whatever was going on down here was weighing heavy on him, but not because of his conscience.

It was because of me.

If this turned out to be one of "those" business trips he knew that I wouldn't be happy with it, and I didn't expect him to cater to my sense of right and wrong but I was sort of thinking that everyone knew that the T-Virus was so passé by now. Honestly I think that bio-terrorism should have ended with the bubonic plague fiasco. However, in his phone conversation he seemed to be saying that he only had intentions of observing, so maybe this wasn't his fault. Who was I kidding? Where there was smoke, there was fire, and where there was fire Wesker was surely just there to catch the explosion… or be the reason behind it.

The questions I had kept in my head for this moment would not be forgotten once he decided to join me in bed, and I kept telling myself that as I waited for him and Gustavo to can the rudeness of speaking a language I didn't understand while I was only ten feet away. I was pretty sure he was receiving instructions to restock the fridge though because Wesker handed him a list, and Gustavo looked like he was saying, "Hell no, not in this weather gringo." _That_ word I knew thanks to a brief obsession with tracking down what happened to Ambrose Bierce. Apparently though they came to an understanding and our local friend was sent on his way, finally leaving the blond to be boldly grilled by me.

Rather than give him a false sense of calm I sat up, sitting with my legs crossed, and he seemed quite prepared for my little interrogation. "Wesker…" The silence he returned gave me room to continue. "What's going on here?"

Quickly and sternly he replied, "It is a business venture that I must see over." The tone of finality told me that I would get nowhere else with this topic. So in other words what he was saying was that there was another outbreak that was not anywhere near intentional. Another mistake had been made and it wasn't by a company; after Raccoon City's decimation no company in the world would be able to get away with something like that again. As well as the situation was covered up, people were still aware that a pharmaceutical company was to blame for the desertion of a town full of promise, and more importantly full of people that just disappeared off the map along with their homes.

Since he refused to go past his rehearsed line of an explanation I moved on. "So is this gonna kill me?" I inquired, lifting my arm and only half joking.

Without hesitation he answered, something that told me that he had been tinkering with Aceso and T, "Aceso will wipe out the T-Virus. I assume that you've already been sick?" I nodded. "Your body will be fully rid of it in a matter of days. Possibly less since your meal."

_More like buffet._

I really wanted to talk about the soldier I had to kill, but I didn't think that Wesker would show much sympathy for someone killed in the line of duty from the opposite side. Instead, I needed to know about the other area concerning my well-being. "What did you mean when you said you wouldn't be able to get me back from government custody this time? Am I wanted dead or something?"

He turned away, more from the question than me.

For a moment I surprised myself, placing my hand on his shoulder and tugging at him to face me. "Albert," I breathed, trying not to giggle at the fact that his name was fucking Albert, and I had just said it. As ADHD as it seems, yes, the fact that his name was something so ridiculous tickled me so much that I almost lost my calm demeanor and fell over in a fit of laughter. However, he didn't find it funny; instead he just looked at me. "I'm scared," came out in a whisper, and although I was being manipulative some of that fear was real.

"Through time spent studying and perfecting the T-Virus, I know that anything that carries it successfully cannot reproduce. Tyrants are sexless as you know, only called male because of who they are modeled after. Birkin never revealed to me what exactly I intended to infect myself with, but I assumed that any chances of offspring were lost just because the T-Virus was a part of it. Many BOW's are unable to give birth, except-"

"Fucking spiders and moths," I interrupted, shivering at the memory of those overgrown pests.

He nodded. "The CDC knew that you were pregnant Claire. They knew that the trace of T was from the fetus and not you. It led them to a single explanation: Someone infected impregnated you. Whether it was through voluntary IVF or natural means was of no concern, they only knew that the virus had managed to evolve to a point where live births were possible. The product would be 'pure.'"

"So they think I still have the baby?"

"If they knew it died it would not matter, not when more can be made."

His words took a while to sink in, before I understood that he was telling me that my own country would use me as a nothing more than a factory for mutants. "And if they caught you…" They knew that he had me, common sense stating that he had to be involved with me in another way. They knew that he was the father and they knew that something about me was so different that I could birth his child.

"They do not know about your current status Claire." Removing his shades, he revealed his eyes to me, and I think it was to prove his sincerity. "If they did it would change the urgency of our capture. We are wanted very much alive. If they discover that you are infected with Aceso…"

I remembered what he said about my brush with the T-Virus, trying to sound like I had an idea of how biology and viruses that crossed paths worked. "But if you got me pregnant wouldn't Aceso pretty much destroy the zygote?" God I hoped that was the right terminology and he didn't laugh in my face. Being wrong in front of a legitimate scientist was one of the worst things.

He seemed to be more at home now since we were talking science, and he slipped off his boots, removing his shirt next. "Only if your body was exposed to the fetus' blood as with any other pregnant woman. We won't know the results though, not unless we test it." He threw his tee onto the floor, not looking back at me over his shoulder. He needed my okay before he could test anything like this, and since it seemed that we weren't willing to stop having sex that maybe it was best if we did see what would happen.

Though I would be completely naked, I removed my robe, not even asking for pajamas. "I think that it's best."

"When we are done here we may try. However, this is only a test." What he meant was even if the fetus developed normally it would be terminated. But what if it was like the last one? A monster…

_You will never have a baby. Though, do you really want to have a baby with __him__?_

I never said that.

As he clicked off the lamp the room became completely black, and I felt him turn over to me. I knew what was on his mind, yet because of what I did today I turned away before he could kiss me. His body tensed, and to recover from such a failed, smooth move he placed an arm over me, and I snuggled into him, my back against his warm chest. The contents of my shorts' pockets remained in their original place, across the room and behind the bathroom door. I inhaled deeply, turning my head as far as I could to place a kiss on his jaw. Perhaps it was better to occupy my mind with a little sleep-aid.

January 6, 2002 Saturday 10:34 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Ubatuba, Brazil

Status: Unsure

I was used to waking up in a bed alone when another had been lying next to me not too long ago. It had to have been recent, Wesker opening the curtains I mean; the light from outside would have woken me up earlier had that not been the case. Instead of the first memory of yesterday being my last action of making love, I remembered John Kessler dying at my hand, and all because he had an eye for detail. I couldn't even enjoy a good stretch; instead I just sat up and looked down at the white bed sheets. I got out of bed and found the white robe that I had thrown onto the floor the previous night and wrapped it around my naked form, only to pull up my sleeve to see that the discoloration was gone. Like speed would make a difference in whether Wesker had cleaned my clothes or not I sprinted to the bathroom and found my shorts.

I removed my ID and debit card, but I let the dog tags fall to the tiled floor. As though I feared it would burn I slowly reached for them, putting them around my neck, not sure of why, just knowing that it seemed like what I should do. Then again the only reason he was dead was because of that logic. I couldn't think of this right now. The only people who could probably help without shunning me were Jill and Leon. Jill sought the good out in people, being one of the last people to find ways to justify Wesker's betrayal, and Leon was just very forgiving. I loved that about him. Somehow I knew if I could tell him without _telling_ him he'd be able to help me through this. Wesker just didn't find enough reasons to care; he'd tell me to forget the incident.

Maybe though, maybe I was just making assumptions.

To keep myself from moping around all day in an empty house, I tried my luck in a hunt for clothes, finding that Wesker had been thoughtful enough to get me a few pairs of underwear, shorts, sneakers, and some tops. I got dressed as quickly as I could, ashamed that I was naked for so long, and I decided to explore. Of course since the backyard was the forest I didn't plan on going too far. I found it easy to get lost in the myriad of rain forest noises, wondering if I had for the first time heard a wild monkey, or the name of that beautiful bird I glimpsed before my footsteps scared it off. Before long I ended up a mile out, glad that I had kept straight. Otherwise I would have been lost.

I never thought that something so repetitive could grab my attention so easily: tree, tree, monkey, tree, tree, bird. But this was the first time I could see South America in its rawest form of undisturbed forestry. The endless trail of green was not something that could be seen in packed cities where most of the wildlife said "fuck it." To me, an uncultured girl, this was like an Eden, the way the world was intended to be. It was so nice to be able to see this and not fear the snakes or whatever else because I knew that Aceso would be my savior.

I wasn't worried about that spider, or that frog, or anything for that matter. That was until I looked up at the tree ahead of me, feeling myself being watched intently. Blending in with the branches, one of the greatest predators to walk this earth stared down at me, panting in the heat that I had managed to forget about thanks to my inability to focus on one thing for too long. I wouldn't be wandering on past this though; as a matter of fact not a single muscle seemed to be working in my body. Cool, amber eyes targeted me, and my mouth parted in what could have been fear or awe. Honestly, I couldn't tell you which one.

This was the biggest cat I'd ever seen, except this one didn't purr and rub against your leg for Kitty Chow. I'd only seen my spotted subject on television, their cry being one I could never forget, and I managed to lick my dry lips when I noticed its nose twitch as it smelled the air. Slightly, the feline leaned forward, its golden hair made so much brighter by the sunlight that its spots were made invisible. Its look of interest only became more intense as it got a better whiff of me, but it did not move, only continued its assessment. Then, to my astonishment, the cat sat back, reclaiming its grip into the branch.

Its eyes then turned to the area behind me as it continued scouting for trespassers or a potential meal, since apparently I was neither. With an uncertain frown I took a step forward, getting no attention the predator, but when I attempted to get closer to the tree it looked a bit uncomfortable. I decided not to push my luck, and backed away while it continued its search. My body was filled with a rush of adrenaline, and I felt like I was going to shake so that I couldn't stand anymore. A feeling similar to head-rush hit me as I turned away to return to the cabin, but as I realized that an apex predator showed me (a human) respect, I felt a smile so big take over my lips that my cheeks began hurting.

Could it have smelled that I was different? Was I spoiled goods to it then? I had no explanation for that other than Aceso. That jaguar had a huge opportunity to at least maul me and instead it just looked and sniffed. As I came down from that high I felt my body become unbearably hot, and before I went back I decided to stop at a creak I had heard not too far from the cabin. Carefully I kneeled down to splash a handful of the clear-running water on my face, dabbing at the back of my neck. I was covered in sweat, and was probably as salty as last night from the ocean. I grimaced at that thought, resolving to shower immediately.

I knew it was best not to tell Wesker, I'd probably get scolded for even wandering in the first place, but there was no reason I couldn't sneak the question in without actually asking if a jungle cat would fear me. There was one thing that I was certain of though: I was closer to Mixcoatl than I was before. Now my problem was getting there, or at least getting news about the situation. Then that voice in the back of my head whispered to me words that were true, but if I listened it would be very uncharacteristic of a Redfield.

_Leave it be._

January 6, 2002 Saturday 3:47 PM

Subject: Kennedy, Leon Scott

Location: ?

Status: Anxious

It felt so awkward having a girlfriend again, and I'll admit that the checking in wasn't my favorite thing. I'd told Maritza a thousand times that I couldn't tell her where I was, and I couldn't even tell her what my mission was. It was hard to lie to her when she asked if another outbreak had occurred, but it was for the best that she didn't know anything at all. Even I was little uncertain of what had happened. All I knew was that the drug lord Javier Hidalgo had been making some shady deals with bio-weapons dealers, and that there was a huge chance of an outbreak in Mixcoatl.

The guy who would be my partner, Jack Krauser knew nothing, except that we had take Hidalgo into US custody. Leaving a guy in the dark who was supposed to have my ass didn't sit right with me; we were supposed to trust each other. Then again I didn't even know what this guy looked like; just that he had been a loyal soldier of the United States up to this point, so there was no point in thinking that he'd turn on us now. As I reread my mission details on the PDA I tried to imagine what I would possibly encounter down here, praying that G was left out of Javier's little shopping spree. As a matter of fact I hoped that everything was absent, and that he didn't even open the boxes to play with his new toys.

Everything involving Umbrella was destined for ruin. Chris and Jill's lives were now devoted to stopping bio-terrorism, and in the process their careers as officers would never be available again. They were seen as over-the-top conspiracy theorists by the world now. Umbrella, the company that initially held Raccoon City up, ended up being the reason behind its destruction, and it gave no reparations for its decimation other than a sorry excuse and comparing it to Chernobyl. And now, it had ruined Claire's life.

She was gone and because her double life had been exposed I was sure that I would never see her again. However, I think Umbrella had Claire the second she showed up in Raccoon City looking for her brother; she was never the same. She became a warrior almost overnight, and rather than save herself she put herself in harm's way to save her sibling. Despite knowing what Umbrella was capable of she voluntarily went to look for Chris, getting mixed up in another outbreak. And though I never said it out loud I think that Claire was enticed by that danger, and in some ways the power responsible for it.

Never did she see Umbrella as I did.

When she spoke of charging in to save the day I would see the slightest bit of wonder in her eyes, and not the rage that Chris demonstrated. He wanted to take them down, but it seemed like Claire wanted to know more. Knowledge may have been power, but women were easily seduced by power, and having been a cop, believe me when I say that the badge made them give it up easier. Siblings were supposedly so opposite of each other, and if Chris was the Jesus of today, sacrificing himself for bio-terrorism, then what was his little sister?

If she was willingly seeing Wesker then it was obvious that her loyalties needed to be questioned, but even if she was on the other side I couldn't be against her. She was my friend, and I knew that even if she was with Wesker, she was never going to be against me. Was it only a matter of time before it infected me too, that they would get to me with the promise of a gold-paved road? I knew that it was only matter of time before Umbrella regained influence, even if it had to change its name. It would never stop spreading, reaching out over oceans until it covered everyone and everything. As complex as the web it weaved, it was so simple to see what Umbrella really was. It was nothing more than a plague.

_Cross both Americas off the checklist._

A/N: Chris is dumb, but I couldn't further insult his intelligence by letting him continue to pretend that Claire was innocent. It's time that even he becomes the monster he didn't want to be, and Monstrum was actually more so referring to him than Claire but for some reason I just didn't write him into that chapter. He is cracking. And if the end is rushed I'm sorry, but I need to get to the action. It's like standing still for too long, I get jittery.


	20. Vita Post Mortem

A/N: "Vita Post Mortem" means "life after death." I couldn't think of a one-word title that would fit this. Also thanks for any suggestions to where I could post this story. I have posted it on deviantART under the name Ripsi91 and on under Ripsi. Those are the completely unedited versions of this fic. In the future take into account that I will not post the unedited chapters right away to the other sites. However, all we can do now is petition that they bring back the MA category, M already doesn't show up automatically when first entering the site. It has to be a conscious decision to go in. And just because of this I plan on making a super hot chapter in the future after the Mixcoatl story. Also I need to state that Capcom royally screwed up with the location of Mixcoatl. Mixcoatl is an Aztec god, and Mixcoatl can only be in upper South America but more than likely Brazil except Krauser spoke Spanish to a driver in the game. But I am trying to go with the story as much as possible so I will be stuck with their flaw. Mixcoatl and Amparo with remain in South America, in Brazil for the sake of the original storyline. I scratched my head trying to figure out how to make this work. So sorry if you know that it's flawed, but hey, tell them that. If you know of a freaking Mixcoatl in South America then tell that it works. And I know that there is an Amparo in Brazil, however the one used here will be as fictional as the Mixcoatl since the real Amparo is too large. So I'm saying that because of Krauser and Capcom the people from here on out will speak Spanish. Inaccurate I know, but these are fictional towns with fictional rules.

skidney: Thanks!

Angelic-demonite: Thank you, I'm trying to keep the creative juices flowing.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Yes more baby-making, however, will they keep it?

Gildagrhan: Thank you! And for you at some point I will give jealous Wesker!

Lady Snowstorm: Thanks and congratulations!

Lady-FFVII: I sent a PM.

xCanadianxAngelx: Good question. Legal issues shouldn't be a problem if you have to verify your age. But whatever, let's cater to the trolls who _act _offended by sex and violence.

me: They haven't said anything to me but it was suggested to me by another author that I watch out. I believe the purge has already occurred so I guess I'm in the clear, however, I will post "too hot content" elsewhere. I also can't see the website you gave me :( put it like wwwdotfanfictiondotnet.

Shiori: Thanks for the suggestion!

weskerism1: I can't see the site name :( but don't worry I'm not abandoning this story!

Naoko Suki: First off congrats! And I'm glad you're able to read again! Get better!

Pancoon: I know it definitely sucks. All we can do is petition this site to bring back MA, but if you need a site you can go to Adult Fanfiction. Another thing is I think there are more readers here so if you care about reviews and more views then I would just post it here anyway and tell people you're also posting it on the other site just in case.

Marzipan: I hope your luck with your eye gets better :( I can't ever picture writing Wesker as a happy-go-lucky guy. It wouldn't be him. And thank you, I plan on setting up an account there. I've never lived in a jungle but the heat, bugs, and humidity here makes it seem like it sometimes. And poor Chris knows it's best for Claire to be with Wesker, I honestly don't think he'd ever pick death for his sister over safety regardless of who's guarding her. Thanks for reviewing!

Brasileira: You know that, I know that, but Claire doesn't. She doesn't speak a lick of Portuguese. I know there are differences in the two languages and felt I should because of my own lineage. That is why I wrote Wesker as using the Portuguese term to thank the man at the front desk. The man Claire was speaking with spoke Portuguese and Spanish which is why Claire used the Spanish words she knew.

JessicaMylo: Thank you so much. Here's the update!

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters just this fic and my original characters. I make no money from this story. Also I do not own Ford and nor do I advertise for them.

Optio

Chapter 20: Vita Post Mortem

January 9, 2002 Tuesday 3:47 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Ubatuba, Brazil

Status: Anxious

For the past few days Wesker had been busy, making calls in his study or looking over files packed into manila folders, which left me with very little to do. John Kessler hadn't even been bothering me much, but I knew once our business here was done his haunting would begin. I touched the cool dog tags that hung from my neck, letting out a sigh as I tried to figure out if I should throw them away or keep wearing them around until Wesker finally asked about them. Then again he probably already knew, but since he sucked at empathy he just chose to ignore my blatant cry for attention.

Maybe I was just being selfish though…

I think he had quite a bit on his plate already, especially since he had let his appearance drop in the previous days; I don't think he had showered last night, nor had he been shaving but for some reason I found the latter sexy. Also, I could tell that he had been out in the sun because he possessed a tan I never knew someone so fair could have. My fear had been holding my mind captive, trying to figure out what was going on down here, and there was only one way to at least temporarily quiet the voices of suspicion in my head. Without invitation I walked into the small study, closing the door behind me, and strangely enough Wesker didn't notice me until he heard the click of the lock. His head snapped up from previously folded papers with black, printed words filling the bodies, but I forced my eyes away in an attempt to not openly pry.

"Did you need something?" His shades lay on the cheap, black desk right next to his gloves, and I told myself not to pay attention to how militaristic his uniform appeared.

Wordlessly I took a seat on the floor in front of him, placing my head against his knee. I don't know what I wanted right now or expected, but I knew that I didn't want to be alone. I guess I needed to hear from him that everything was going to be fine and that he was not responsible for what was happening in Amparo. Instead though, I just sat there, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. For a moment his body tensed, until finally I felt his bare hand stroking the top of my head, and I knew that he understood what was wrong then and there. It still didn't mean anything because he still couldn't tell me what was happening. Rather than doubt our confusing relationship any more than I already had I just gave in and felt myself nodding off.

When I awoke maybe an hour had passed, and I immediately noticed that I was lying on the carpeted floor of Wesker's office, my face buried in an impossibly, soft pillow, and a dark blue blanket covered my body. My search for him ended as soon as it began; he was still sitting at his desk, hunched over a file writing fervently.

Without warning I asked, "Do you trust me?" my voice raspy with sleep.

His scribbling ceased, and slowly he spun around to look down at me. "If I did not, you wouldn't be here." Ever difficult. For some reason men failed to understand the power of the words "yes," and "no." They were definitive, and Wesker keeping me here could change at any moment if I pushed the wrong buttons or stuck my nose too deep into his business. Despite this, I wouldn't argue with him, I just didn't believe that he was able to make such strong commitments. He'd whored himself from company to company, and even though he'd been with Umbrella for such a huge chunk of his life he double-crossed them. To me that didn't mean he was untrustworthy, but it meant that gaining his loyalty was a challenge that so far no one had passed.

I liked to think that I was at the final stretch since he would fall asleep next to me, and let's face it you don't sleep around someone you don't trust. And apparently I trusted him completely since I had just taken a voluntary nap around him.

Once more I asked a question without any lead-up, hoping he wouldn't ask the typical male question of, "Where is this coming from?" "Where are we supposed to go after this?"

"We will go wherever we can."

Taking another gamble I inhaled, grabbing hold of the carpet beneath me. "Why are you keeping me so close to you?" I waited for a moment, expecting for him to reconfirm his "fondness" for me, however, he only smirked and turned back to his papers. Something in that simple gesture though, it spoke volumes to me. I think it more so surprised me that he was able to smile while he was working. I remember when his smirk used to frighten me, when it haunted my dreams, but now I just saw it as his trademark expression. Just like the jaguar he was dangerous, capable of showing me my place in the chain, but he didn't.

I'd gone from being a person in his life to being a part of it. This was made evident when I saw that he had a plan for me in every situation. He could have locked me away until he was done here, he didn't have to give me a mini-vacation and a makeover, he didn't have to factor me into all of his smallest of plans, but he did. And for that, I felt special.

January 14, 2002 Sunday 9:17 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Ubatuba, Brazil

Status: Bored

_"For a few days I won't be here. Just stay here and anything you need will be provided by the help."_

_"Wait, where are you going?"_

_ "I will return as soon as I can. And Claire… Stay here."_

I heard nothing for three days since his departure, having nothing to go on except the flash of the word Amparo on the screen. A shot of the whole village showed me that it was now a ghost town, not only missing a few dozen girls but the whole population. They had just vanished, and I was left with nothing but a Portuguese to English dictionary that didn't help because I couldn't even spell let alone understand anything the anchorwoman said in the first place. A storm was taking place outside, and from the radar I could see that it was going to be one of those raging ones that didn't last for more than an hour. That sucked, since I had planned on sleeping the day away with my head next to the satellite phone Wesker left me.

Gustavo stayed to himself in the guesthouse, only coming in to retrieve any list I left for him, and when I asked him about the happenings in Amparo he only pretended to have no idea what was going on and left. What a fucking help he was. Speak of the devil, I said to myself as I heard the door being unlocked.

"I brought you back some steaks just in case!" He announced, making sure he was as dry as possible before daring to step on Wesker's wooden floor.

I craned my neck to say, "Thanks," before turning back to soap opera that made no sense. Just from their expressions though, I could so tell that Taiz and Carolina were busted in their steamy affair. "Ai meu Deus," I whispered to myself, a little proud that I had managed to pick something up, even if it was a phrase that broke the first commandment… or was it the second? Gustavo ended the question over my membership in the church when he excused himself, retiring to his little guest house where I was sure he would look at anything but stories.

As the commercials interrupted the drama I decided to push myself up from the couch, just barely avoiding a bout of head-rush. Barefoot, I made my way into the kitchen, peeking at the just-bought steaks in the freezer, however, my eyes managed to land on a carton of strawberry ice cream. I don't remember telling him this was my favorite; as a matter of fact I never even touched strawberry ice cream in Red Lodge… Deciding not to over-analyze any further, I decided against an unnecessary snack. I mean, what if I gorged myself and I ended up stranded here for a while? I'd wish I had that ice cream then when the electricity was out...

I scolded the devil on my shoulder, whining to myself before shutting the freezer door. Leaning against the refrigerator, I scanned the kitchen for nothing in particular, not even needing anything from this room unless I was attacked. Just as I pushed myself off the 'fridge my eyes settled on the counter. "Gustavo," I mumbled, shuffling over to swipe up the keys. God, I didn't feel like taking these to him.

_You don't have to._

I felt like Claire when I heard that voice, the Claire that was too nosey for her own good. The Claire that got me in the position of being called Illyria Wishkar in the first place. The roads may have been out but if I could just get close enough… As I slipped on the nearby hoodie on the coat-rack, I still hadn't made a decision, but when I found myself searching for the cell phone and shoes and I knew that I had convinced myself that this was the right move. Well, maybe not the "right" move but something that I would have done long ago. At this point I was virtually indestructible seeing as whatever damage I received would heal, so what did I have to fear?

If there was a simple outbreak of T then I would be fine, and this was the least I could do for my brother. After leaving him to sort through my things and figure out what was going on, and I was certain that a part of his spirit was broken from my betrayal. This was something that I had not thought about for the longest, preoccupying my time with this mini-vacation had proven effective, but now it was over and Wesker's departure had left my mind to wander. Still, I could not have yet another betrayal under my belt. Yes I intended to disobey Wesker's order to stay put, but I had no intention of interfering. I just needed to know the proportion of this outbreak.

Then I would come right back and beg Gustavo to keep his mouth shut if he hadn't already told Wesker. It was best that I go now while the rain was heavy, and Gustavo wouldn't hear a thing. From a quick search online I found that Mixcoatl wasn't far away, just a two hour drive, and then I would be able to get in and back out. As long as Wesker knew that I didn't interfere everything would be fine. I was sure.

After putting a pair of shorts and a black v-neck I grabbed a pair of black boots (damn Wesker was becoming a bad influence), and I promised to myself they were only necessary for the weather, and after rummaging through Wesker's personal closet I found a nice (wait for it), black holster _just in case I swear._ It had a small pouch on the back with room for a gun and knife. However, there was no sign of a gun, only a trench knife that would have to do. Damn it Wesker, what if someone had broken in? I did not expect Gustavo to be able to help me out in that situation. A bullet is faster than me running for a boat.

_Now or never… Unless you'd rather play house as Illyria._

January 14, 2002 Sunday 10:23 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Somewhere in Brazil

Status: Anxious

I think I was lost; I must have been, so I pulled over a marketplace, waiting for someone to pass by. I didn't have much faith in the red Ford but it had gotten me this far so I was sure I'd make it there and back as long as I had gas money. While I wandered around I looked for people who could speak even the tiniest bit of English, but none of them did, only Spanish. It wasn't like this was a huge city, just a micro-town that was nothing more than a rest stop. Just as I was about to give up I saw a blond male in the corner of my eye about to get into the bed of a blue pickup. My heart jumped and I neared to get a better look.

With a sigh I realized that he wasn't Wesker, but he looked military, armed with holsters of knives, guns, and the camo pants were a dead giveaway. Once I realized that he more than likely was American I sprinted over, squeezing through a crowd of people gathered by a tent filled with some crappy jewelry. Just as he was about to yell at the driver to start up the truck I yelled out, "Hey!"

This guy looked like he never smiled a day in his life, only frowned and worked out. Actually I was little intimidated by his build, and with Wesker I knew that slicked-back, blond hair equaled the attitude put on by dicks. "What? I got a specific place to be and a specific time to be there."

I failed to stop myself from rolling my eyes at him, folding my arms over my chest. "I'm trying to figure out how to get to Mixcoatl."

"You don't need to get there ma'am," he replied quickly.

"Actually I need to be at a town near there."

With a look of interest in his blue eyes he hopped down from the bed of the truck, eyeing me closely, "You a reporter or somethin'?"

With my hands on my hips I readied myself to boldly tell this lie. "Yes I am."

A smirk on his face he nodded to himself, "My _amigo_ here," he spat, jerking his head in the direction of the cab, "is trying to get me to pay him 50 bucks to take me there. Being a fellow American you wouldn't mind giving me a lift to Amparo for free." His statement was just as bold as my lie, and I bit my lip at his arrogance. "You are American aren't you?"

Though it made no difference what the hell I was I said, "Technically. Born in the US."

"Then American to American you get me there, and I let you get to the tip of the yellow tape of the town's border?"

I felt like he and I would have an interesting time together, and I wasn't too sure if it was because of his attitude or because of what trouble I knew would pop up. The American Government was getting involved in this, meaning it had something to do with America.

_Or an American company._

"Deal." I stuck my hand out to his, receiving a firm shake. This guy was giving me the creeps already.

After fifteen minutes of driving and directions eventually he dared to let the conversation wander. "So, where are your parents from Miss 'Technically American'?"

For a moment I had to think, forgetting my own damned back story. Then I remembered Ada's creativity. "My mom is Swedish and my dad is Iranian," I supplied. Then I quickly stated, "But all I know is America."

"I'm Jack by the way." He allowed some time for me to reply.

"Illyria," I said back, pretending to be checking out something in my rearview. "So what's the American military doing here?"

He gave a single laugh and looked at the side of my face. "What's the American Media doing here?"

"You know, just interested in a good story." My face went from emotionless to curious once I could make out the shape of roadblocks that were keeping a crowd of people held back. Behind those roadblocks though was a disturbing sight: men with big guns and Kevlar vests.

"Ah shit," Jack hissed. "That's the local military. Stop up here." I did as ordered, and without a word more to me the blond got out of the truck, but I stayed there, not trying to exacerbate my already sticky situation. As I looked on through the windshield I saw the crowd ahead raise their fists, and screams began to pick up in the crowd. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I definitely could see one of the men lift his gun threateningly. Jack didn't get much closer, instead he was talking into a radio, but because of the possibly deadly situation ahead I didn't dare move from the driver's seat.

Oh my God what did I get myself into I asked myself. As Jack spoke into the radio he seemed agitated, but I couldn't read his lips and damn I was trying. Before I could make out a single word of his conversation though a sound like thunder pierced the air, but rather than silence following the crowd grew louder. When I looked back at the scene ahead I was witnessing what could only be called a massacre. The local military was killing their own people, and they didn't seem to give a single fuck.

When I heard the passenger door opened I jumped in my seat, but it was only Jack. "We gotta head for the train!"

Instead of stupidly look back at him I was pushed to move by the continuance of gunshots, and I followed him into the trees. For a man of his build he moved swiftly, and I struggled to keep up as I stumbled over a tree root. The train was picking up speed and Jack managed to get onto the back car. I heard more gunshots, and the sound of Gustavo's windshield being hit, and now I knew that I had no choice but to catch up. Just as the train kicked up its speed another notch I jumped up to grab the railing, out of breath while Jack looked at me with an impressed look on his face.

"Twenty minutes from your scoop, how does it feel?" I could tell that he didn't really want me there, and he'd probably try to force me to stay on the train, but for the sake of temporary civility I only smiled back at him. Somehow I'd managed to get myself wrapped up in trouble again, and if Wesker was in Mixcoatl, then busted didn't even cover what was about to be in my future.

_Claire Redfield isn't dead._

Jack must have been pressed for time, because he practically threw me off of the train, but rather than end up in town we were in the jungle. That pretty much equaled the middle of nowhere in South America. "All right, you head east and you should get to the border of the town. You may be able to talk to someone there, don't go any further and after that… you're on your own," he warned. Without even so much as a thank you he started off in the other direction, yep, he was a dick. However, I knew better than anyone that the border would be shut down for as far as that roadblock, meaning that I needed a view of the town from the inside. Just a peek and I'd beg him for a damned map to get me back to the Ford.

Ugh, the Ford was so going to give away my little trip.

Pushing that aside I remembered that I needed to be following Jack, so before I lost sight of that yellow-headed son of a bitch I started to sprint just enough to keep up with him. By the time I reached him he had stopped in a clearing, spearing a snake like it was nothing before taking a drink of water. "So, you think BOW's actually exist?" he asked tauntingly, only to snidely say, "Oh wait, you said you faced them before, huh?"

Wait, someone who had faced BOWs before? An Umbrella operative?

He neared whoever else was there, tossing the snake off of his knife before throwing the canteen to them. I couldn't see the person though, so I edged closer, trying to remain out of sight, but unless I wanted alert them to my presence I had no choice but to remain in the dark who he rendezvoused with.

I once again heard Jack's raspy voice, "Our guide is in the village up ahead. He'll take us to Amparo where Javier is hiding out. Come on, let's move." To get an idea of the direction they were heading I took a step to my left, and as I heard something rustle through the leaves I cursed to myself.

"What was that?" Wait, I knew that voice.

"Probably another snake. Let's get going Kennedy."

"Leon?" I asked aloud, so loud as a matter of fact that I could only slap my forehead at my stupidity.

"Who's there?" I heard the leaves beneath his feet, so I knew that he had drawn his weapon and took up a defensive stance. Before he began shooting into my general direction I decided to ease out from behind the trees, my hands up in the air and my eyes on the ground. "Who are you?"

Wow, the dye job was enough of a camouflage after all then.

"Aw for fuck's sake Illyria!" The blond shouted, and I knew he had thrown his hands up in the air.

Since it was only a matter of time before he figured it out, I looked up into Jack's eyes, not even acknowledging Leon as I said, "Good to see you again too Jack."

For a moment I think Leon was lost for words, and his partner's complaints faded away to background noise as I saw him lower his gun, his face holding hurt, relief, and confusion all at once. Before I could say another word he ran over to me, pulling me into a bear hug so tight that it _almost_ rivaled Chris'. Despite my discomfort I laid my head against his shoulder, just enjoying the touch of an old friend from my old life.

"Claire what the fuck are you doing here?" he demanded, holding me away from him by my arms. "We thought… they said…"

"Leon I'm fine," I whispered back.

"Your hair…"

"All a part of Illyria," I explained. "Who your friend already met," added, looking over to Jack who was no doubt even more confused than Leon.

Lowering his voice to keep his partner from hearing too much of our personal business he hissed, "Last I heard Wesker kidnapped you while you were _pregnant_ and in CDC custody!"

My mind took me back against my will to the day, the moment I found out that I was having Wesker's child, and I had hoped that that part had just been a nightmare that Leon could have snapped me out of. "I know." For some reason I nodded, probably to keep myself from staying still, I just needed to move or something. Hell even blink but I didn't want to look insane by going overboard.

"Was it true?" he asked, shaking me a little and I knew which part he was referring to.

"That doesn't matter anymore." Rather than interrogate me any further he only pulled me back in to him, and we rested there forehead to forehead. "Chris can_not_ know." Once again he pushed me back to shoot me a glare, but my eyes narrowed at him to let him know that I meant business, and that telling my brother about me would only further complicate things. "If he finds out Leon, he will undo what Wesker has done to protect me."

"He got you into th-"

"_What _the _fuck_ is going on?" Jack nearly bellowed with his arms out to his side. "So you two know each other and your name isn't really Illyria?" It seemed impossible to him that someone had lied about their name, imagine what more I could have gotten over him.

To let him know that this wasn't as simple as a name switch and that this wasn't a mild revelation I shouted back, "Yeah and black isn't my natural hair color, and these are contacts!"

Marching closer to us he snapped back with, "Look lady, I don't know who the hell you really are but you could be Lady Di in disguise and that still wouldn't change the fact that we have somewhere to be."

Looking back into Leon's eyes I said, "As do I."

"No! No! And no!"

I ignored Jack's protests, only searching Leon's face since his answer was the only one that mattered. He couldn't leave alone here, not when the military was shooting down those who even dared to enter the town, and he couldn't dismiss me after not seeing me for almost a year. "Claire," he whispered, "I thought you were dead."

Without thinking about the consequences and questions that would follow I blurted, "I was. So there is life after death." My attempt at a joke failed, and I couldn't even forge a smile to go with.

"Was it his?"

Silently, I plead with him not to go there, to just leave it be, but he was unwavering. I couldn't continue to lie to him; I owed him something after all of this time of not knowing. "Yes." To provide an excuse I quickly added, "Leon he saved me. I was dying and he saved me."

I was so afraid that he'd ask what I was now, but I don't think he could even be so cruel, not when I had just walked back into his life. "Why?"

"Because he's trying to help." Chris would have yelled. Chris would have argued. Chris would have ranted and raved until he ran out of breath and collapsed, only to wake up and start all over again. Leon only gave a single nod.

With a deep breath he asked, "Does Wesker know you're here?"

"Not yet. But until he does I want to help."

"I can't talk you out of this."

I shook my head no.

"Who the fuck is Wesker?" By now Jack was exasperated, probably doing mental flips from penning up such anxiety, but I wasn't sure that he needed to know anything about the 21st century's very own Bonnie and Clyde. Well we were like them in the aspect of being a high priority and that our relationship was more than frowned upon.

"Krauser!" Leon snapped. "No one can know that she's with us. You understand?"

"Look Kennedy," he said, stepping even closer, "As long as I get my cut of the glory I don't give ten elephant squats what she's doing here. But she's your responsibility."

As he turned his back on us Leon looked back at me, questioning my ability to keep up with them. All because they had on freaking camo pants, I thought in annoyance. "Trust me Leon, I can't get hurt."

Not getting the gist of the hint he leaned in a whispered back, "If this is Raccoon City all over again you're damned right you can't get hurt."

Instead of spelling it out for him, I only said, "You'll see." I had the worst feeling about this, and I was sure that we would run into something that would end up exposing my secret. Missing girls, strange attacks… Leon was in for a surprise, and one that I hoped Jack Krauser could keep a secret. All I knew was that I could without a doubt withstand another outbreak thanks to the very man partially responsible for the first one, but what was killing me was that I wasn't certain that Leon could. Once again, just like our first meeting in Raccoon he was underestimating me, and I would surprise him all over again.

Wherever Wesker he was going to be pissed to see me, and I feared seeing him. Gustavo had to wake up sometime, but my phone had yet to vibrate and I thanked God for that. The longer I went without a call meant that Gustavo had yet to find that I was gone. And the longer I was gone meant the longer I would have to endure Wesker's scolding.

Forgive me Wesker, but you know who I am. No alias could ever change that.

A/N: Short and not the best I know but it took me forever to even feel like updating. So review and we'll get to the action and Leon finally questioning Claire. And what much of the Hidalgo fiasco consisted of: Krauser having absolutely no fucking idea what was going on. Peace.


	21. Iterum

A.N: "Iterum" means "again" in Latin. Though Capcom has some suck-y dialogue I used theirs to keep it as close as possible to the game. Couple phrases I just found unnecessary though.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you so much! Wesker is gonna be… well, haha.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters. I only own this fic and its original characters. I make no money from this work of fiction.

Optio

Chapter 21: Iterum

January 14, 2002 Sunday 11:17 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mixcoatl, Brazil

Status: Worried

An awkward silence had settled upon us as we made our way to the village, and maybe that was for the best because the things I needed to tell Leon weren't necessarily for Jack's ears. No we needed to stay focused since we had no idea what we'd be walking into. I was just grateful that Leon handed me a pistol just in case, but of course the fact that he even saw it essential to hand me a weapon was worrisome in itself. I stood to Leon's side, not wanting to feel weak and sheltered by being placed between the two men. I was past the point of fearing for myself… at least until Wesker found out that I was here. This would happen soon too; he was "watching over a business venture," but the real issue was whether or not he would swoop down like Spiderman and pluck me from the situation. Or would he simply let me continue to meddle in his affair and save all of his anger for later?

_The latter._

Before I talked myself into tucking tail and finding a way back to Ubatuba I took a deep breath, taking my first step into Mixcoatl, and the setting instantly went from forest to village… Either that or a western just before some gunslinger and a sheriff prepared to face off in a showdown. The ground had more yellow dirt than grass, and this place, despite having power lines, looked like they had no idea what a telephone even was let alone a light bulb. A well rested up ahead, deeply buried in the dry, hard dirt, and in a few more years the mouth would probably need more bricks piled up to warn others of its existence. A wooden fence to my right cut off my sight of the rest of the village, leaving me with nothing but the dull image of a deserted town.

Captain Obvious, AKA Jack muttered, "Pretty quiet around here…" But Leon didn't seem to hear him, not like he needed to when the sight of a ghost town was enough to show him as much.

As we headed on towards the well Leon asked, "Where is everyone?" looking to his left, before looking ahead to see the same sight we were given before: nothing but a fucking well and shacks.

A slight breeze caused a flutter to my right. One the fence hung dozens of posters with pictures of young women, and it was safe to say that they were the ones reported missing. "Leon," I began, but what sounded like a voice from a radio stopped me.

"Y ahora las noticias. The number of missing teenage girls has now risen to over 50. Marking an increase in disappearances this year." I hope that would mark an increase, but it was best that I keep that comment to myself; this was one of the reasons they were here, and since Jack had little faith in BOWs actually existing it was safe to say that it was… wait, why were they here? Leon and I hadn't had time to talk much about that, but when BOWs were mentioned I instantly assumed that that's all they could be looking for.

_You know what they say about assuming._

I realized my mouth was hanging open as Leon finally spotted the posters, frowning as he concentrated more on the news report. "The local authorities are warning parents to be cautious."

"Guys?" I asked, looking at both of them. "Exactly why are you here?" Rather than answer, Leon only turned his glare down to the ground beneath us, while his partner only continued ahead.

Instead of directly answering me, Leon looked to Jack and said, "It's more than just girls that have gone missing…" I swear if they didn't get to the knitty gritty and stop stating the fucking obvious… The sky was blue and what else? His gaze turned to an opening in the fence, and he frowned. "There's no one left." Another mark.

"Something's wrong," Jack commented, and I would be lying if I said I didn't want to pistol whip the both of them then and there. The soldier walked over to the well, almost into it as he surveyed his surroundings, noting something not so obvious, something that I sensed as well but just couldn't put my finger on. "It smells like… like a battlefield."

"A battlefield?" Leon echoed, for some reason not being able to look away for too long from that damned opening in the fence.

"Death." I hated being the one to say it when I had been praying so hard that this was all just a misunderstanding. And my assertion earned me my friend's attention for the first time since we stepped foot in the village, and from the look in his eyes we both knew how familiar this scene was. It was like a script that mandated being followed to the T. Desertion, strange reports, and now that eerie feeling that told you that what took place here earlier was something you'd soon be grateful to have missed. "But where's the blood? The litter? This didn't happen overnight."

Instead of feed my fear he brought a hand up to my shoulder. "Maybe we're just jumping to conclusions then.

Like he finally heard me, Jack agreed with me, reiterating what I had said. Dust floated in the wind, further illustrating that this village was in fact dead. There were no children running around playing, there were no people walking to the market, and no one drew from the disappearing well. As I attempted to check if there was even any water left inside, somethin caught my ahead, and I heard Jack give a gasp. Leon and I, however, fell completely silent as a bruised and man with splotches of blood on his legs, his green shirt, shuffled forward to us. My hand automatically reached for the holstered weapon at my hip, but I still hoped against hope that this was just _really_ a misunderstanding.

Jack's face only held curiosity, and what was probably the desire to help. "He looks hurt."

"No shit," I whispered, gulping to get down whatever the hell was lodged in my throat. Anxiety? Fear? But before I could say anything I saw Jack in the corner of my eye moving forward, his gun casually at his side, and I knew that this fool had no idea of what happened in his own country in '98. Hadn't he at least heard the rumors? He was a soldier for God's sake.

"Hey! You okay?" he called. "What happened here?"

The man left his questions unanswered as he staggered towards him. "Krauser, wait!" Though Leon had that same gut feeling as me he had yet to pull his gun, and if he wouldn't do it I would. I took aim, but I couldn't shoot until I was sure.

"Yeah, what?" That idiot actually took his eyes off of what was now my target, but even if he didn't see him, I'd make sure that I did.

"Something's not right with this guy."

"Leon," I warned impatiently. His eyes had also left the target, something I wanted to slap him in the back of the neck for. The man finally looked up, showing us eyes that were yellow, and a mouth caked with blood. I could still see the flesh stuck in his teeth as he bared them at us, moaning out when he realized that the dinner bell had just been rung.

At the last minute I heard Leon yell, "Look out!" But they only backed away.

How soon he had forgotten. As I remembered how quickly Raccoon City had got out of hand based on hesitation, I shut one eye, focusing, and taking aim at the zombie's bald head. Without a second thought, I pulled the trigger. The power of the bullet caused the corpse to spin before hitting the ground, and I breathed in once it hit me that this was going to go nowhere but downhill. As we looked down at the back of once-more dead man, we saw his wounds: scratch marks and chunks of flesh missing from his back, the edges lined with teeth indentations. He had been attacked from behind.

"Didn't see that coming." Jack's attitude was unfitting. When I saw zombies on Rockfort I nearly shitted myself despite having faced them before. This was nothing to him. "So this is what Umbrella's virus can do, huh?"

"Yeah. But there was something different about this one." Gray eyes met mine as Leon and I thought about the differences between these walking dead, and the ones of the past. Usually they didn't move in the daytime, and usually their eyes were glazed over with cataracts. And to have made no noise this one could obviously maneuver over the junk piled around the area he just came from…

That thought alone brought me back to reality as I spun around to spot two more sneaking up on us. Leon took aim at a male, and at the sight of the gun being pointed in his direction… he ducked. No fucking way. Instead of waiting to see what other tricks he could do I sent a bullet through his skull while Leon managed to take out a woman in a pink cami. What the hell kind of tinkering was being done with T? Wesker's innocence was definitely now coming into question.

My mouth was set to ask Leon something, but from our previous path came stumbling a small group of the undead, reaching out for us, groaning loudly.

Before I could lift my weapon I saw another zombie drifting from the first's hiding place, too close for comfort, and thankfully Jack took him down. "We'd better find that guide before it's too late."

"All right," Leon said with a nod, and we all turned to run into the market area, and I braced myself for a sight of zombified shoppers. We turned the corner heading left, coming to a screeching halt once we ran into at least four of the undead, and we took them out quickly enough.

"Their heads! Blow their head off!" Jack was really an annoyance.

To set the record on my knowledge of the situation straight (yes I took it personally), I shouted, "I was killing zombies in '98!" As I heard a groan behind me I shouted, "Behind us!" The group from earlier was only inches from sinking their teeth into us, something only I'd survive. Not wanting to have to reload in the middle of the attack, I took my target out with my knife. I struck the man through the temple, the blade sliding in easier than I could've imagined, and before he once again gave in to death he reached for me. But I could not take the time to wonder what he felt when gunshots were going off around me.

While Leon reloaded his clip I heard Jack say, "Not bad comrade! If that's the toughest these bioorganic weapon things get, then we got nothin' to worry about."

Okay, that straw broke the camel's back. "Shut up!" Finally, I caught the blond brute's attention, and Leon already knew what was wrong. "You have no idea what we've done! We know what we're doing. _You don't_." Before he could even think up a smartass retort, I walked ahead, not forgetting to stay on the alert. If his naiveté continued to go so strong I wasn't sure how much longer he'd make it. The comment he made wasn't just that though, it was stupid, and his stupidity just may well end up killing my friend. No, I couldn't let that happen. Leon was not going to die here, and I'd make sure of that.

Goddamn it Wesker.

January 14, 2002 Sunday 11:30 AM

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Mixcoatl, Brazil

Status: Interested

I had not heard from Claire all day, and I had not expected to. We were not ones for "checking in," or at least I wasn't. Still, I knew that in this situation it was best if I remained sure of her status, especially when an infected managed to make way into our hotel. As I waited for Hidalgo I pulled out my phone, holding the number that would speed dial Gustavo; I did not wish to alarm Claire. He answered on the second ring.

"Yes?"

"Gustavo. How are things?"

"There is a storm that has overstayed its welcome and become very bad. But I saw Claire a few hours ago and she was fine."

I fell silent for a moment, looking down to the concrete floor. A few hours was a long time to leave a Redfield alone, especially the one in question, but then again where would she go in a storm? She was in South America, a continent that I knew she wasn't very knowledgeable about, and with her kill-or-be-killed scenario at the hotel I doubted she felt up to snooping. As I heard the footsteps of my client I quickly uttered, "That'll be all," hitting the end button before tucking the phone away in my pocket.

A shaded man with a rather unimpressive build, Javier's only true power lay in the tattoo he branded himself with, and his last name. He was nothing more than poor man's version of… well yours truly. "My men have been unable to locate her," came his accented voice.

"You have a limited amount of time to retrieve her; the virus is unstable. Perhaps putting her in stasis would have been the better route." My statement was filled with nothing but facts, so anything he was thinking, he kept it to himself. That little brat should have been locked away for fifteen years, but instead his princess was given a treatment that brought on today's consequences.

"You don't understand…"

Before he began spouting off from a place of sentimentality I stopped him. "Had you placed her in stasis per my professional recommendation it would have been unnecessary for you to go organ harvesting from a small, superstitious village. You called attention to this town Senior Hidalgo. My services do not extend to clean-up." No, I was meant to provide him with the merchandise and instructions, but since he could not stand to strip his precious Manuela of freedom she wouldn't have missed had she been asleep we were here. "Get the girl back. I have a corpse that proves the effects of Veronica unchecked. You've seen the origins of the Jaberwock S3." I did not need to say anymore, and for some reason because of Claire I did not wish to further use Burnside as an example. The fact that she was still at the cabin was for her own good, because perhaps someday she would be able to stand by my side, observing, but if she ever saw that anything was done with his body…

Emotions were the cause of far too much trouble.

January 14, 2002 Sunday 11:35 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mixcoatl, Brazil

Status: Oddly tickled

After his ballsy declaration that the zombies were a cake walk, Jack was caught off guard by one, and Leon being the boy scout he was didn't even give him time to sweat the situation. Still, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction over his attack, and hoped that maybe he'd take these things more seriously. He had to because if I couldn't watch Leon's back for any reason then he had to be there. He _had_ to be. And as much as he thought I probably needed him, the ex-cop was actually the one closer to any real danger than me. However, I was praying that he wouldn't have to find that out at all, at least not with army-man standing front row and center for all the details.

Sadly though, Jack ended up shaking off the attack from two ginormous spiders better than I did and I had encountered the sons of bitches on two other occasions. Ugh. Now though we were examining the bodies of Javier's men, the drug lord I'd read about, and I even managed to get some information on this mission. They were here for him, and he was probably to blame for this outbreak. This made me feel a little bit better about Wesker's place in all of this then. The undead Sacred Snakes though… they were quick, quicker than the others we had taken down.

There was apparently no time to ask questions though, because Jack took one look to the shacks below us and turned his mouth up into a frown. "The water keeps rising. This looks like Javier's doing."

Incredulously, Leon added, "Son of a bitch must've opened the water gate. You think he knew we were coming?" We all looked at one another, wondering exactly how far his fingers could stretch. I mean, did we even know if anyone period was still alive here? In my past experiences with outbreaks I found that usually everyone died, even the people in on the secrets.

"Who knows? But I've got my doubts about our guide being alive."

Carefully, I made my way over the flimsy wood that held us over the water, and even though I could swim for some reason I just didn't want to even touch that muck. We were about to pass a hut to our hut when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. "Hey! What was that?"

Apparently Jack was no longer ignoring me since he decided it best to look into what caused my outburst. "Let's find out." We peeked inside the shack finding nothing but an empty shelf against the far wall, an empty bookshelf to the left, a table in the center, and a hammock. Fancy. "Anyone here?" Jack called in his rough voice.

You know how in a movie when you ask that question you receive nothing but silence in return? I hoped that would happen now, but instead I heard a groan to my right, a sneak attack by the shack's former occupant. Before I could even pull the trigger the man was blown back, blood splattering over the clean, white towels that hung to dry, and I turned to find that my savior was none other than Jack Krauser.

_Well did you expect him to let you die? Not like you can though from a little ol' bite._

The sound of approaching undead broke me from my disbelief, and Leon ordered, "Let's just keep moving," something Jack did not protest.

As we sprinted over the makeshift walkway Jack saw that unless we wanted to go for a dip, there was no way to get over to the other side. "The river took the bridge out." I remained aware that we had an audience creeping closer, but I was too distracted by something moving just beneath the surface of the water.

"This way!" I heard Leon yell, not even knowing exactly which way he went.

There was a splash to the left that happened too fast for me to catch, and by looking in that direction I missed something else to my right. "There's something in the water!"

"Piranhas?" The blond stepped up next to me, aiming at one of the fish as it flew out of the water towards us. Never had I seen a fish get shot but he blew that fucker to pieces. Once again Jack unknowingly helped keep my secret just that. Together the three of us shot blindly at the barrage of fish torpedoing into our direction, the bullets causing fish guts to fly in this direction and that.

Leon sent one last bullet flying to take care of our little fish problem. "Sure are hungry little bastards, aren't they?"

"Get inside!" Jack's warning reminded us of the growing crowd behind us, and we jumped into the shack to our left, through the window.

I exhaled sharply, thinking that just maybe I'd have a moment to catch my breath. As I sat back against the wooden wall, letting my eyes wander to the ceiling. "Holy fuck!" Four pairs of eyes and fangs as big as my arms scared me into whipping my gun back out, shooting probably more bullets than needed into a mutant sized spider. As it fell to the floor I scrambled to my feet, not even wanting its hairs to touch my shoes. "I. Hate. Spiders."

Leon only looked to me, and surprisingly he only gave me a laugh before jerking his head in the direction of the door. I loaded a clip as we walked over the boards towards another shack, shaking my head at the trouble I'd thrown myself into.

"You hear that?" Jack held out a hand, stopping Leon and me from going any further. We heard a groan, but it didn't sound like the others. Someone was in trouble. "Let's go!" Before I knew what he was doing he rushed through the door, giving us the sight of the other side of the village; something had torn down the wall. "That's our guide!" Against a desk with a laptop, a man held himself up, his thigh bleeding badly, and the tourniquet apparently wasn't helping. "What happened?"

For a moment I feared that he had slipped away, but he looked up at Jack slowly, like it was taking his last bit of strength from him. "That girl…"

"What girl?"

"She brought devils to this village. She escaped from Javier's mansion. I helped her. But then she…" His description of the infected only made this all seem more dramatic, and a part of me knew that he would die without knowing the truth of what they were. In his final moment he would be more terrified than he ever had been, because to him his home had become nothing more than a vision of hell.

"Wait, where is she now?" Jack gently shook his shoulder as he seethed in pain, looking up to the ceiling as he tried to find some bit of strength to continue. "Hey!" His head fell, and I didn't need Jack to check his pulse to tell me that he was gone. He had died nameless to me, and that was probably the best way, lest I gain any smidgen of care that would cause me to somehow feel bad.

However, Leon being a man hardened to such things merely asked, "You think it was one of those missing girls?"

With a last look at the guide, the blond said, "The Sacred Snakes traffic organs on the black market. Could have something to do with one of them." He looked to me for a moment, probably unsure whether or not to continue, but he knew that the two of them needed to go through everything to either form or disprove a connection. "According to our report, there was no conclusive evidence linking the two, but uh… I think we'll need to track down that girl to find out for sure."

Deciding to somehow make myself useful I added, "It wouldn't even be a side quest. She sounds connected in some way. Especially if she escaped from the mansion. I mean why else would she have to run away?"

"Good point," Leon muttered.

"And now that our guide is dead she could be our only way to find Javier's mansion." Jack proved himself to be onboard with finding her. Plus I wouldn't be able to leave behind a kid in the midst of all this. Sherry was never in danger of me leaving her, and I owed it to her to save another innocent.

"There should be a boat over by the church. The guide had it set up for us…" Somehow this was getting to Leon as well, and maybe he too was being reminded of our trials, and our main failure of Raccoon City. We turned to head towards this church, but I wasn't too sure if I even felt comfortable in a boat with the piranhas. I never even knew they could be infected with T, but then again Chris did tell tales about sharks that resided underneath Arklay so it actually made sense.

The sound of water splashing behind us from the hole in the floor, and we turned in time to witness a pair of thin, green tentacles retreating into the water. An alert Jack asked, "Where's the body?" Nothing was left to show that he was ever there except a puddle of blood.

"Leon?" I edged closer to him, hoping that he could recall anything we ever encountered that could be the culprit. He only shook his head, staring down into the muddy pool beneath us. This wasn't a regular outbreak.

January 14, 2002 Sunday 11:45 AM

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Mixcoatl, Brazil

Status: Occupied

As I looked through the greenhouse I was wary of the Veronica plant in the center; every now and then it would move slightly, possibly reacting to me. And as impressive as it was, personally I saw no reason for it to be there. I felt my cell vibrate in my pocket. "What?" Only a few people could possibly be contacting me right now.

"Senior Wesker?!"

Well, Gustavo had certainly ruined this somewhat pleasant stroll. "Yes?"

"My truck is gone! She is gone!"

I felt my brow draw inward at his claim, and I had to force myself not to break my phone. "What do you mean 'she's gone,'?" I growled, looking back at the entrance to make sure that Javier was not around. If things did not go his way he didn't need to be aware that someone connected to me could possibly be running amuck. And yes, I was very certain she was here or at least on her way. "Please tell me that you tracked the truck." With my free hand I took hold of the railing, trying not to break it in two.

"It has been sitting twenty minutes outside of Mixcoatl."

Exhaling deeply, I could not help but roll my eyes in annoyance. What man let a grown woman get away in his car?

"Should I go after her?" His offer was the right one to make, but at this point it wouldn't matter.

"I'm sure that would be useless." I hung up, immediately dialing Claire's phone. No answer. The urge to break something became so great in me, my teeth clenched together tightly, and even I could not believe that I was so angry. Why did it have to be her?

January 14, 2002 Sunday 11:50 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mixcoatl, Brazil

Status: Annoyed

It seemed we were being revisited by frogs as tall as us. Whatever Umbrella wanted to call them, I'd call them ugly either way. They had no eyes, no teeth, but strangely enough when they stood on their hind legs they appeared to taunt us, calling us out. Their mouths were coated with a sticky substance, and toothless I did not want to get that shit on me. So we shot our way through them, and by now we were hurting for ammo. As the last one of a group failed in agony during its last moments, I cursed a little to myself.

"You hear that?" Leon looked around before turning to the church doors. I really didn't think Mother Mary was waiting for us, but if he said he heard something… He pushed the doors open, and it creaked in protest, it seemed the water wasn't the only thing to blame for the state the place was in. I almost pushed the brunet to the side when he wouldn't budge, but once I saw what had stopped him I stopped as well.

That must have been the girl. She couldn't have been more than fifteen years old, sitting alone in a church that looked like it had barely survived an atomic bomb. Her white dress was so torn that pretty soon it wouldn't cover much of anything, and the bottom was soaked with blood on one side. Her light, brown hair was tied in pigtails on the side while the back hung free, and it was cut very short. We lowered our weapons as we crossed the threshold, but she didn't see us either way; her eyes were closed.

Her failure to acknowledge that someone just entered the church wasn't what bothered me, it was the fact that she was singing. "Sleep my love as the trees above, protect you from the dark. A great river will watch you as, you dream until dawn."

"Leon," Jack whispered, jerking his head in the direction of the pool of water to her far left. Something was watching her with two, asymmetric blue eyes that were covered by a gelatinous, transparent shield. From here it looked like a giant lobster, but since its body was submerged I couldn't be too sure what it hid beneath the water. Whatever it was, I'd never run into anything like it before, and I'd never known an Umbrella beast to fall in love with a singing beauty.

"Sleep my love, close your eyes…" Suddenly, the singing stopped as she looked at us with icy, blue eyes before she abruptly fainted.

Splashing followed as the now red-eyed beast revealed its lower jaw with fangs jutting out from individual mandibles. It raised itself up, its neck long and thin. Familiar tentacles whipped at its sides while its gut hung at least a foot, and it stepped up into the building, furious for reasons unknown.

"Shit where do I shoot?" Leon's voice was almost lost to the growls of the monster as we all began aiming for the area that held its eyes. A good place to be a head right? Jack still did not touch the shotgun he'd found earlier, and that was a good idea since we didn't even know where to aim. It bent its head downward as it raised a tentacle, ready to swipe at us, and I noticed soft-looking area, and I shot. It almost sounded like a scream as the creature recoiled in pain, and before I knew it the boys were following my lead. "We'd have a better chance fighting this out in the open!"

Leon retreated, and we followed suit, luring that thing out with us. We turned to make sure it was following but it wasn't. "What the hell?" My question was answered as we saw it swimming off to our right, diving and emerging so quickly that any shot would have been a wasted bullet. It circled us before taking another dive out of our sights, and we huddled together. I was sure all three of us were praying that this thing didn't burst up through the boards. An explosion of water before us obscured our vision, but I couldn't miss the large blur that came at us.

Not one of us could stay on our feet, but I sure as hell scrambled to get back on them. I followed the sound of splashing until I saw it heading for the side of the church. I climbed onto some boxed as it sat there in the water, shaking it tail at me. Oh shit, I thought, diving back down onto the boards. I heard something pierce the air so quickly that it made a "whoosh" sound, followed by commotion from both Leon and Jack. I looked over to see rocks as big as my head flying at them, missing them both barely. Once again with impossible speed it flew from the water, knocking them both over.

In quick thought, Jack pulled the shotgun from his back, pumping it before shooting it right in what really must have been its head. It backed away enough for Leon to slip from beneath it. Dazed, it wandered over to the entrance of the church.

Without hesitation Jack began shooting at the top fo the church, causing it to break free from the rest of the stone, falling onto the creature's head. More agitated than hurt, it grabbed the wooden balance with its mouth, tearing it from its perch angrily. It threw a roar at us, and turned around to jump back into the water.

"Is that is?" My question was cliché, but I just couldn't believe that Big Bad and Ugly had given up over a bump on the head.

"We did it!" Those were Leon's words, not mine. I had no intention of being the one to jinx us. And like he had been struck by lightning he ran back into the church, standing over the girl who stirred, but she did not come to. I kneeled down to her, brushing loose, strands of hair behind her ear. Something about this girl bothered me though. For some reason I saw Alexia flash before my eyes.

_Her_ eyes matched the fallen queen's perfectly despite her dark skin, and the lullaby that seemed to calm that thing…

_Alexia is dead._

Then why did I feel like she was still here?

A/N: I updated quickly because I was pretty much given a script. I don't feel like I'm so creative when I have to follow a structure but I just can't bring myself to further deviate. Plus, if you're gonna do a "remake" do it right. Review!


	22. Eam

A/N: "Eam" is Latin for "her." Thanks for favoriting and adding the alert for my story. Now just review along with it and I'll be a lot happier and go, "Oh I want to update!" Also I'm gonna have to skip around a lot. I don't want to make a freaking walkthrough of Darkside Chronicles. Honestly I'm not even sure if Claire is gonna be with Leon the whole time. I feel like Wesker's wrath is more interesting than having her help fight for Manuela, who is just about as annoying to me as Ashley fucking Graham. Will Claire completely disappear from Amparo? Hell no, because this isn't a Resident Evil movie where that kind of shit happens, however… well dammit you'll see. Sorry, Paul WS Anderson has just pissed me off and I haven't even seen the movie… ugh.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you! Here's the next chapter!

Breathewithme: We can only praise whichever god you choose that Wesker is a calm man… Pre RE5

skidney: Thanks!

Lambeosaurus: Message sent. Glad you like it though and sorry I couldn't give a third chapter. School :/

littlevamp: Awe, thank you :) Wesker will always be hard to read. Sigh. I'm just trying to avoid writing him out of character. I really can't ever see him actually saying, "I love you." And I don't want to tweak his character either. I'll be around to reviewing your story soon.

Marzipan: Glad you found it! Take your time reading it; updates won't be happening back to back.

Optio

Chapter 22: Eam

January 14, 2002 Sunday 12:30 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mixcoatl, Brazil

Status: Wary

We made our way downstream, heading to Amparo, and for a while the girl slept. In her sleep she groaned, kicked her little feet, and frowned. My inspection of her was so intense that I had managed to mostly tune out the retelling of the Raccoon City incident from Leon. Jack was curious, and being partners, it was only right that he let him know that things could get much worse from this point on. There was so much to cover I wonder how much Leon summarized, but I didn't want to be too involved. Being thrown in this mess was enough to worry about, especially since… Uh-oh.

I pulled the satellite phone from my pocket and pressed the unlock button. Fifteen missed calls, no messages. Leon threw me a glare, but I ignored him as I hit Wesker's speed dial number and he let the phone ring forever before he finally answered. For ten seconds there was silence, but I knew that he was on the other end, listening, too angry to say anything. "Hello?" My voice was soft, fearful even, because I didn't know if he'd yell, if I'd cry as a consequence of his yelling…

"Where are you?" His voice was calm, but underneath his professional tone I could hear anger boiling.

"What do you mean?" I wasn't lying, just testing his knowledge. Then again he was probably testing my honesty. The silence on the other end had gotten to me, telling me that for my sake he was keeping quiet. Looking down at the bottom of the boat I whispered, "I'm going to Amparo."

"Turn. Around."

I allowed for a small amount of time to pass before saying, "I can't."

There was an exhale, and then a click that even sounded angry. Feeling my stomach drop, I locked the phone and put it back into my pocket.

Leon looked concerned, and I think he knew who was on the other line. "Are you-"

"How much longer before we reach Amparo?" My impatience and anxiety was my excuse for my lack of manners, something he should have understood. Knowing what Wesker was capable of was the only thing that kept him quiet, and the confusion surrounding my relationship with him was another thing. What could he say in this moment?

"Shouldn't be much longer."

Clueless Jack asked, "Who was that?"

Though he'd been told a piece of the story, he still didn't know it all, not that it would make his judgment of Wesker less harsh or more understanding. No, I would still be an enemy of the state for even having a phone conversation with the man. I just hoped that we didn't run into him here and that he wouldn't embarrass me or cause a scene by dragging me off by the arm. The source of my worry stemmed from his presence here, and the source of some of my relief stemmed from… well the fact that he was here. In the past when he judged me it was different: then it didn't matter because he didn't know me, but now it mattered because of what we had shared. Now, his opinion of me mattered more than ever, even more so than Chris' at this moment, my brother who didn't even know how and why this whole thing got started.

Behind me I heard a little grunt, and turned to see the girl stirring. Nervously, she sat up and backed into the side of the boat out of fear. Honestly, I didn't blame her; at this point everyone was a suspect.

Immediately, Leon went into his caretaker mode. "You don't have to worry," he assured her, giving her a warm smile, something that I doubt could comfort her after all she'd seen. This kid would need a lot more than hot chocolate in front of a fireplace. Still he continued to try. "You're fine. We're not going to hurt you." He glanced up at Jack who stood at the front, scouting the area ahead. I guess piranha watch was necessary at this point. Better yet he was probably recalling the tale of the giant sewer gator.

Dropping his binoculars from his eyes the blond interrupted with, "We're the ones who saved you."

Self consciously, she grabbed her arm, and I noticed that it was bandaged up neatly.

"Are you all right?" Leon leaned forward, and she turned away a bit like she was hiding her arm. Did someone hurt her?

Though I had my suspicions I looked at her with an overdone smile, unable to get eye contact. "Everything will be fine. We're gonna get you out of here."

Completely ignoring my attempt at warming her up to us Jack turned around, his glare belonging to that of someone interrogating a terrorist (something I'd only recently found out was a huge threat to America. Damn Wesker and his ideas of what's important). "So you're the girl huh? The one from Javier's mansion?" he clarified.

Her gaze never left the bed of the boat; her voice was barely even audible. "The people in the village," she began, a look of sorrow forming over her soft features, "what happened to them?"

Without hesitation or even sympathy, Jack answered with, "They're dead." In response to his directness she flinched. She was a child for God's sake.

To save her already crushed heart, Leon stepped away from the motor, kneeling down slightly with the hope that she'd at least look to him to show that she wasn't going to completely submit to hopelessness. "We're here on a mission looking for an American who had contacted Javier about a virus."

My head snapped up at this new piece of information, and Leon took notice with a quick look at me. I think I stepped into more than just one war.

In a gentle tone the brunet continued, not moving an inch closer, but standing his ground. "We need to find Javier. And we were hoping you could take us to Amparo."

She nodded, still looking down, and now I knew that I had to see her eyes. I needed to know if they were the same, if I had seen them before.

About half an hour later we came upon a dam that had been kept in great condition, meaning that without a doubt someone opened it up to flood Mixcoatl. Even more surprising, the girl spoke for the first time without prompting. "I escaped through there." Nothing but forest surrounded us, so how far had she run barefoot? I stole a look at her legs, they were free of scratches. There was nothing…

She led us to an entrance hidden around the side, a channel that would lead us farther into the structure where we would find Javier's mansion. "So if we follow this water channel we'll get there right?" Leon didn't seem too convinced that this girl could remember how to get out of here. After so many traumas I wasn't even sure myself. Guns at the ready, we headed down the channel, seeing a pool of water ahead of us. "You haven't told us your name yet."

"Manuela." I guess she just naturally had a small voice, something that bothered me a little, but maybe the truth was that I didn't trust her. She had yet to look at me, and all I knew was that those eyes had been a part of my past before. She was so much like her, Alexia Ashford, and I couldn't take her at her word. There was just no way. This girl was different, and Leon was too blind to notice because he was once more struck down by pretty girl, one that was definitely too young for him.

"Pleased to meet you, Manuela." His manners were beginning to bother me, we were far from needing to be formal with one another, if anything he should have been asking her for details and why she had to escape in the first place. More importantly, he needed to ask about her arm. At first I thought she could have been tortured, kept against her will, but now I was wondering. If things had been so bad then why the hell was she taking us back into the belly of the beast?

"Now from here on out, I need you to be more careful, all right?" It was nice to see that he cared about her despite not knowing a thing about her but her name. Still, I thought that he was laying it on pretty thick. Coming to a stop, we all looked at her. "You must do as we say, no matter what."

Jack's order was less friendly than Leon's. "That means stay close if you wanna get outta here alive kid." I was glad that a sweet face and a mousy voice hadn't won him over, and it certainly wasn't going to make me baby her. Sure I wanted to treat her kindly, but at the same time if she made it all the way to the village uninfected despite being the one to lead the BOWs there then she could take it.

For the first time since we were in the church she turned to me, seeming to look right into me. "Yes." There was no doubt in my mind.

Honestly this chick was creeping me out, and something else: I don't think she liked me too much. As we entered the discharge channel we looked up at the sky above us, clouds covered the blue sky, and today would have been a good day to sit outside and get some reading done. Alas, I was here for business, business that I didn't properly dress for as I failed to put on the proper bottoms. I stared at the flooded room with dread, I had a feeling it was cold. My boots would keep the water from my skin for now, but if it rose… damn it.

The sound of water splashing was all that we needed to locate the school of piranha that emerged from below. We easily disposed of them, but I hated wasted ammo on fucking fish. Maybe we'd run into some more though, we had to since this was an outbreak, and people had to have taken notice that their coworkers and neighbors had become homicidal. I heard Manuela gasp, and I turned quickly to see a zombified worker reaching for her. I took him out with ease, but more piranhas were schooling because of the commotion, but instead of using our weapons unnecessarily we agreed to run for the entrance ahead. My feet felt heavy in the water as I hurried to reach the door, but complaining about the disadvantage wouldn't help me.

There was a chirping sound, and the school retreated, no longer jumping at our heels. "What's going on?" Manuela's confusion had yet to convince me of her innocence, but I couldn't focus on her. Something landed on the wall behind us, as soon as it was spotted it jumped at an incredible speed to the wall next to the entrance that was our salvation. It jumped down to meet us, barely splashing any water as its barely there body landed. I had never seen anything like it before in my life, not even in Raccoon City. Muscle and bone was exposed to us, its claws being the biggest things on were also the most telling of its origins.

I was certain that it at least had bat in it. It had no organs, I wasn't even sure if there were any eyes in its exposed skull, but as it lashed out at us I couldn't care less what the fucking thing possessed. Before I could begin pumping lead into it, Krauser took out the shotgun he had, the force of the bullets not enough to take it down as easy as we thought it would. It took three shells to take it down, and even in death it attempted to put up a fight. Though my curiosity was peaked I couldn't take the time to look over the corpse; more of the bodies were reanimating behind us, and we headed for the entrance before pulling the door down.

Manuela rested her tired body against the stone wall of the dark walkway, the fluorescent lights too weak to give the desired amount of illumination for the occasion. I didn't need creepy, I needed a clear path to get me the hell out of here. Sure I was glad to be able to watch out for Leon, yet at the same time I was in trouble that I didn't have to be in. _Again._ I thought I wasn't Claire Redfield anymore, but boy was I wrong. And now I'd be paying for my decision long after this was over.

January 14, 2002 Sunday 2:16 PM

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Mixcoatl, Brazil

Status: …

Claire had no intention of coming to me, not with her _friend_ in the middle of this mess that could have been prevented. He was only lucky that I was here merely for observation and now if opportunity knocked, extraction. Among other things Claire had failed to comprehend what would happen if she were wounded in front of Kennedy, and his partner… The blond could not be trusted, at least not until his reaction towards Manuela's secret could be gauged. He struck me as the type to put a wounded horse out of its misery and not continue to beat it after its death. There was no doubt in my mind that the extent of Claire's infection would push him to the edge, regardless of his response though, Kennedy would definitely let big brother know the status of his little sister. He would feel some sickening notion of a hero's responsibility to let him know that Claire was now what he hunted down for a living.

And at this point I did not doubt that he would make an attempt on her life. He was weak and short-sighted. An idiot with hate in him which made for a horrifying combination. In his mission to stop me he had become nothing more than a "zombie" himself, hell-bent on one thing. My hypothesis was one that I kept to myself, all for the sake of Claire and her emotions, pesky things that would undoubtedly cause her to run away into the arms of the man who would bring her more grief than Umbrella had ever managed. So now I would wait, my only option for now. What had been unleashed here was not for her to see, and there was a chance that she wouldn't be able to handle it.

January 14, 2002 Sunday 2:16 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Mixcoatl, Brazil

Status: Anxious

The situation had gotten out of hand, and no matter how much ammo we found it didn't make me feel any better. More of those bat things were crawling around than I could have imagined, and Leon was willing to pull unnecessary stunts all for the sake of a girl we had just met. When we found her she was singing, all just after a wave of the undead had attacked us, but she seemed quite calm despite what was going on around her. Her reassurance was unnerving, especially since she was so young. Well, at least I saw it as reassurance. Jack saw her as stupid, something she may have been, but I didn't see her in that light fully. She seemed to harbor some feelings of sympathy for Javier, the man responsible for her plight, and more than once she had tried to defend him. Something in her mind wouldn't really let her do that though, but that still didn't stop me from suspecting that she wasn't just an innocent in all of this.

Her apologies meant nothing to me, not when she had basically rang the goddamned dinner bell for any surrounding BOWs. She may have not been too worried but I was, because if I did sustain any injury in front of Leon or Jack, I'd have some explaining to do, explaining that we didn't have time for. Also, maybe I just didn't want to think of what I'd say. Yeah I just got a chunk of flesh ripped off by one of those things but it's back now and I'm starving. That wouldn't suffice, and I wouldn't blame him for wanting to know more. The biggest problem though would be the one I'd have with myself: accusing Manuela of hiding something when my secret would impact Leon a lot more since he was supposed to be able to trust me.

Suddenly, a voice whispered to us from the air, calling out to none other than our precious cargo.

"It's Javier!" Leon pointed to the speaker in the corner.

"Please, my dear. Come home."

My dear?

"Father!"All eyes were on Manuela as she looked around, her emotion either being one of fear or relief, I couldn't tell. Holding onto her bandaged arm, she ran around the corner and through the heavy doors, but we followed as quickly as we could. This kid definitely owed us answers now that we knew she was leading us to her dad. Somehow she had managed to miss a group of five zombies that came stumbling in the doorway. We finished them off quickly, and I was surprised that in my haste I made no mistakes. When you knew you were in little danger, you got pretty wreckless, and though I could physically afford it I couldn't with an audience.

We ran through the doors, the sight of a still Manuela was before us with her hands down by her sides and her head titled up. Standing above her across the channel was an older man who Leon referred to as Javier. Javier wore a pair of shades possibly to convey a sense of cool. His jacket was draped over his shoulders, making me think that he only did so to pretend that he possessed an air of regality. Gold necklaces hung beneath his white collar, a pendant dangling from one of them. His moustache and beard were neat, and his brown hair was combed back away from his face.

He looked like a used car salesman more than anything, but you could never underestimate his type. It was the content of the book, never the cover. However he sounded like as much as a snake as he called his followers, persuasive and slick, but no matter how smooth he sounded you could tell that every word leaving his mouth would be either a lie or a means to get him what he wanted.

In his accented voice, he proclaimed to his daughter, "Everything that I have done has been for you." Like a disappointed father, he looked away and paced bit. "You need only to follow my directions for fifteen years."

As Manuela backed away until she was behind the men, I had a feeling that he wasn't just being a protective dad that didn't want her dating the boy with the motorcycle. No, the girl's face spoke volumes that she herself didn't dare reach. Once more she was holding on to her bandaged arm, but I looked back to Javier hoping that he was about to justify my immediate dislike for her.

"This will prevent the transformation."

She shook her head, but I was soon able to put two and two together.

With a shallow breath I looked to her. "Fifteen years? A transformation?" These guidelines were not even given to me in a complete list but I managed to figure it out pretty quickly. "Where did you get your eyes Manuela?"

"I-" She couldn't even answer me.

"My dear, you must be patient!" Javier was not pleading with her, he was telling her.

"What the fuck?" Jack's ignorance of the subject was forgiven, but I think that more than now he felt like he was in over his head, and he wanted out.

Javier took hold of the railing and leaned over to stare even harder at Manuela, showing that his skills of imitation were never wasted. "The man who gave us the Veronica virus told me it would work."

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Maybe it was denial, but whatever it was it made my arm shoot up to aim my gun at that controlling son of a bitch. "What is the man's name?"

"Ah!" Manuela's scream broke my focus, and we turned to see her being held by one of Javier's men with a gun aimed at the side of Jack's head.

"These Americans cannot save you, my dear! Only I, your father, can help you now."

"Fuck you!" I yelled, turning around to shoot, but the sound of water crashing over itself down the channel was roaring in my ear and I felt my legs being swept from under me. Automatically my eyes closed and as I felt my body being engulfed completely by water I held my breath, failing my arms without know where I needed to go or even where I was going. I managed to pry my eyes open for a second, only to see myself heading towards the stone wall, unable to stop myself, unable to throw my arms out to slow the impact.

_Crack!_

?

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: ?

Status: ?

She laughed for no true reason, just because she was mad. And though our interactions were very few I would never forget her face, her voice, or her eyes. Nothing was wrong with what she was doing: the experiments, killing her father, killing Steve. All she knew was that this world was meant for her and she would take it by the balls, all for no particular reason. Alexia Ashford's selfishness had no rival in this world, and neither did she. While I compared Manuela to that lunatic it was unfair, because while her secrets were harmful she didn't mean to hurt us. Alexia meant to hurt me.

I hadn't dreamed of Steve in a while, something that was a good thing, but at the same time it wasn't. Now I was no longer used it, seeing those eyes that hadn't belonged to him, hearing his voice so strained, and seeing his body being stretched and torn from its original form. He wanted to kill me, he wanted to follow his orders that had somehow been passed down from his new queen, and he should have. I should have been dead.

Steve had something that she didn't though, something that couldn't be grown overnight: a conscience. Steve Burnside had somehow beat the one thing that was supposed to be unbeatable, the one thing that was supposed to guarantee her, her throne, but he succeeded in his fight for his humanity. Was Manuela doing the same thing? Was she proof that her research, her life's work was flawed? After all this time had Alexia _finally_ lost?

A beeping noise was loud in my ears, and my eyes snapped open. For a moment it was hard to take anything in, just because I had been out for so long, and my mind was trying to piece together the puzzle but it was almost impossible. I remembered Leon, Jack, and that girl that was the cause of all of the trouble. Nothing else surfaced, and I was faced with the task of identifying my current position. There was an empty chair across from me, wooden and worn from either use or neglect, I couldn't tell. Soon the sound of footsteps met my ears, and the fact that I could identify them based on their pace was both odd and a good thing. Then a figure cloaked in black stepped in front of me, taking a seat in that very chair.

It was time to answer for my mistakes, and this wouldn't go over well.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger. I'm very drunk and I wanted to write but to avoid slipping up. It's been so long since I've updated and I needed to give you something. I've completed Leon's, Chris', and Jake's campaigns on RE6 and I enjoyed them. In a way I feel they tried to make their peace with Wesker and Birkin through their kids. Maybe they'll have kids and name their son Wilbert :) anyway I still wish Wesker would have somehow returned. But yeah, let me stop before I drunk rant. I would like to say that I am now rethinking putting RE5 in this story's line all because of six. We'll see though. REVIEW!


	23. Fidelitas

A/N: "Fidelitas" is Latin for "Loyalty." You have a limited amount of time to read the uncensored version of this chapter before I upload it to deviantART and AFF. I don't upload to those sites right away though so keep that in mind. I just don't want to have to give people the chapter then say, "By the way, I need to direct you to the other sites for everything." This is gonna be short and to the point about Claire and Wesker's stance. It's more important to know where they are than to read about what we already know is going to happen in the fight with Javier.

littlevamp: Lol when I drink and type I'm super careful. Even if I'm correcting a word for a minute. I hated to snatch Claire out of the situation but it was getting boring. I intended for Leon to learn of her infection but I feel like his character wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut about it. As for Jack, well we know he meets up with Wesker so he and Claire's paths shall cross again. I hate to think so negatively, feels like I'm a traitor, but Wesker may really be gone :( at first I was like screw Jake, he doesn't even look like Wesker! Then I saw his bad-assery and I was like ok I see it. Still, he's no substitute. I think they just wanted to reunite the Wesker/Birkin team. Loved Sherry's instant healing though. Reminds me of my Claire :)

En1gmatic1vy: Thank you! And I know, I kept expecting for him to pop up and Chris to spit, "Wesker!" He had to say it though. Instead of, "Wesker has a son?" He's just like, "Wesker?!" Lol I expected him to fly the jet into a building but he handled it pretty well. I feel like Chris misses him though. I was wondering why Chris Redfield would show any sorrow for killing a guy he was after for so long. Old Chris would've gone, "Yeah I killed your f!cker of a father and you're next!"

Gildagrhan: Trust me, it was hard for me to go so slow. My writing and desire to write suffers in areas where there's a long lead up. I'm like action now, drama now, sex now! And it's no problem. I plan on some hardcore lovin' for them coming up.

Mystik Fire: One day I just realized how effective first person's are. Better to have this straightforward view from the subject than this omnipotent view that has to remain impartial. I realized that I didn't do impartial well when my character hated another's guts. And thank you so much :) I try to make as few mistakes as possible but it happens. I type really fast and sometimes things come out completely wrong like missing words or using the wrong form of a word. Hate it. But I always try to spell correctly. When there's an annoying, red squiggly line staring you in the eye there's no excuse.

Ultimolu: You gave me my 200th review! Thank you!

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you so much. I consider this a relax chapter so enjoy it.

Optio

Chapter 23: Fidelitas

?

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: ?

Status: Scared shitless

When I was little I broke the toaster, I was the only one that could have been responsible for it, and my parents knew that. Knowing that I couldn't blame it on Chris, I still lied about what happened. I maintained no matter what that I had no idea how it got knocked off of the counter, and that it couldn't have been me. Though my refusal to turn myself in kept me from getting punished my parents knew what I had done, and nothing stopped them from giving me that look that said, "You're a damned liar." I was getting that look right now as a matter of fact, and right now I wanted to bury myself in sand, to disappear almost completely as my shaded savior sat in front of the bed. I could tell that he was pissed by the line that was his mouth.

As I sat up I realized that I had been put in a pair of baggy sweatpants and an oversized, black tee. The cold, wet spots on the shirt let me know that my hair was wet, and I remembered how it got that way in the first place. On cue, my stomach gave a loud groan that let me know I cracked my skull pretty hard, but knowing that Wesker was royally pissed, I was too afraid to really ask him for anything right now.

However, stone-faced, he lifted an arm and pointed to the desk across from my little cot with a plate holding a whole chicken.

Acting as though it were a trap, I looked back to him with a question in my eyes, slowly lowering touching my bare feet to the floor.

Despite my cautiousness he appeared quite bored, going so far as to cross his arms over his chest while staring at the unoccupied cot.

In silence I picked away at the meat, after a while forgetting that he was in the room. I allowed my mind to wander every now and then though, asking questions like why he had a whole fucking chicken or if he was going to sentence me to some sort of lockdown in retaliation to my defiance. I was becoming a problem, throwing the whole toolbox in his plans while contributing very little.

I heard him get to his feet. "When you are done you will ride to Brazil and receive plane tickets."

Afraid to turn around I asked, "To where?"

"From the results of today I think it is best that you don't know." I heard him make his way to the door, felt the heat from his body next to me.

"What about Leon?"

I heard him exhale and his nostrils were probably flared, but I was still too afraid to look up. Instead of a reply I was met with the sound of the door slamming, flinching as I grabbed my right ear.

I fucked up. I fucked up pretty bad.

January 14, 2002 Sunday 5:07 PM

Subject: Arti, Maritza

Location: Washington DC, United States of America

Status: Skeptical

A rooftop was so cliché, but then again I was here for a man who was a stereotype. A snitch, sneak, and a spy. Well, maybe that last part referred to me as well, but my actions were not meant to harm anyone. No, I was supposed to watch and make sure that everything went smoothly for my employer, while his plans were to lie to everyone he came across to gain something I knew would remain unattainable to not just him but anyone who went for it: the world.

My heels clicked as I made my way over to him, probably seething at the distant view of the white house and wishing that he could somehow destroy it with his mind, "Independence Day" style. However, Sergei would simply have to deal with being nothing more than an ignorant, old fool who had to deal with the radical change he fought against for so long. Freedom existed, people could believe in whatever god or no god at all, people could say what they wanted about their leader, and people could think for themselves. Those were things that ate away at him, things that even Sidorov had learned to tolerate.

"The most powerful man in America lives in that house." The smile on his face was audible in his voice, but this was all a tactic to make me feel like I had no control. My American citizenship said otherwise.

"Last I checked no Rockefellers lived there." I was straight-faced, not in the mood to joke with the creep. I just had some things to say to him, and just maybe the arrogant bastard to would let a few of his plans slip. I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed, a cloud of fog floated into the air from my mouth. Staring out at the city I realized that I never liked DC, just wasn't my type of place, so how fitting that I'd be standing on a roof overlooking it with someone I hated. "Does Chris know who you are?"

He gave a single laugh. "You might as well tell him where his sister is."

"Too bad I don't know." And I didn't really. I knew where she _was_, but knowing Albert Wesker, they could have been on the moon right now. "I'm just shocked that you haven't snitched me out yet." There was no point in telling the others what I was really doing in Denver, not when he had a bigger secret. I was merely an informant; Sergei himself was a weapon, so our decision to pretend we didn't know each other was one of convenience. Too bad he didn't know that I was keeping better tabs on him than he realized.

"Keep an eye on your boyfriend Miss Arti."

My eyes narrowed at his statement.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him spin on his heel to leave. He had no leverage over me; Leon could take care of himself, that I was sure of. He was blind to what was going on in South America, whereas Wesker pretty much guaranteed me that nothing would happen to Leon. Apparently the outbreak was contained and there was nothing there that my boyfriend hadn't handled before. _Wesker hasn't lied to me yet._

January 15, 2002 Monday 9:36 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Logan, New Mexico

Status: Anxious

I'd never seen him so angry before, not even when he declared his hatred for Chris, hissing into my face on Rockfort Island. His disappointment with me had been so great that we flew to America on separate planes. When I finally arrived in "Nowhere," New Mexico, he sat at the table, staring at the shining mahogany, his hand tense against the wood. His jaw was taut, his eyebrows impossibly relaxed for his mood, and his mouth was slightly turned down in what I knew would have been a frown. Nervously, I shut the front door, setting the brown suitcase down on the marble tile.

I wanted to say his name, put on that womanly charm and let him know that I was sorry but I wasn't able to turn my back on my friend. I couldn't speak though, my tongue stayed at the ready, but my mouth wouldn't open to form words. My eyes felt heavy, but that wasn't the true reason they refused to leave the floor as I walked over to the table. I sat across from him slowly, like he was bomb set to go off at the slightest disturbance and to me that was exactly what he was.

After what seemed like a lifetime he finally spoke to me, words that were filled with disbelief and disappointment. I then thought of Chris' response to me piercing my belly-button, this would be one of those talks. "I gave you specific orders to stay out of it, yet you deliberately disobeyed me and interfered."

With a laugh of incredulity I asked, "Disobeyed? What I'm your subordinate now? Because according to you _Albert_... You're the one owing me until payday!" His head snapped up so fast that I saw a blur of red, and I swallowed hard, my body becoming tense as I realized what I had said.

Quickly, he recomposed himself, clasping his hands on the table top, and I could see the strain he put into being calm. His fingers moved restlessly, he licked his lips, and his notoriously impeccable posture disappeared as his back hunched. "This was in no way about domination." Though he spoke evenly, I could see his anger bubbling to the surface as his teeth bore, and without warning his voice grew louder. "IT WAS ABOUT YOUR PROTECTION!" he roared, his fist rising up in the air only to come crashing down through the table, splintering his side.

My reaction was a visible jump, my heart doing flips inside my chest as I tried to remain calm, but I felt a sting I knew all too well in my eyes. My calm had broken as I shook with a sob that came from God knows where. I just knew that tonight was different. Without thinking I looked up at him, wringing my own hands like wet rags out of nervousness. "What the fuck is this? We- we have sex and we care and… Why are we doing this to each other?"

I'd never seen him move so fast in my life. He reached over the side of the table, throwing it into the wall while the rest of it suffered the same fate as his half; he rushed over to me so fast that I thought for a second he was going to kill me. The problem after all was me, and I wouldn't blame him for erasing that problem out of his life. Instead he pulled me up from the chair so quickly that I had head rush, or was I just so confused? His grip on my arms was so strong that I cried out, and he ran me into the refrigerator, holding me against the cool, steel door. His lips were set, like he wanted to say something, but there was no way that he could.

Finding the words myself, lost behind a black screen, I said loudly, "I'm in _love_ you." For a moment he lingered, searching my eyes for something unknown, and he pulled me away from the 'fridge, throwing me onto the counter where I banged my head against the cabinets. Then he grabbed my shorts, ripping them off as if they were made of tissue paper, and in his attempt to do the same with my panties the elastic put up a fight, burning my skin as he pulled them roughly from me. Somehow I then understood, quickly working at removing him from his pants, however, I regretted that for a moment as he entered me without preparation, and I felt a pain so sharp that I flung the black toaster onto the floor.

Unsmiling, he began pumping in and out of me, and in defiance of him I tore his shades from his face and threw them to the floor. Strangely, I felt the need for more of this attitude, as we stared each other down, his stroke unyielding. "I love you!" My scream was so loud that he frowned, burying himself even deeper inside of me and my legs reached out for a surface that was not there. I wanted to scream for him to stop, or to at least slow down, but at the same time I just wanted him inside of me, fucking me past the point of pain. For a moment he removed himself, and I groaned in disappointment and relief all at once. As he grabbed his length I wet my fingers with my tongue, using enough saliva to provide lubrication for my already sore genitals.

He ignored this and began patting the head of his dick onto my clit, an action that caused me to moan out. I'd never seen him so confused over what to do, to tease me or to fuck me right away. Effortlessly he scooped me up with a painfully tight grip on my ass while I clung to him for dear life, and lowered me down onto his erection. I was completely out of control as he used his strength to bounce me up and down along his length, the sensation of having every inch of his cock inside of me forced me to scream out. Any attempt to gain any power was lost as he manipulated my body as he saw fit. From the look in his eyes I could tell that he wanted to moan, to tell me how good it felt, but he only scowled at me over the bewilderment he felt. He was wondering how could he do this if he was so angry with me, and how could he say what he never could before?

"I love… you." My statement came out in pants. I dared to remove one hand from around his neck to push my hair back from my face, but any action to subdue it was futile as it bounced along with me. My throat became dry as a result of my attempts at breathing through my mouth, and at one point I had almost forgotten to do so. In hopes of getting any sympathy for his roughness with me I brought my hand to his face, cupping his cheek as I stared into his eyes, fiery and passionate. In response he did the same to me, slowing his pace as I felt our bodies fall to the floor. The limestone was cold to my skin, but as Wesker slammed into me once more I felt adrenaline induced heat spread throughout me. Forehead to forehead we grinded against each other as he maneuvered an arm around my back to pull me closer, and for a moment he dipped his head to begin sucking on my breasts so fiercely that I knew had my body not been modified by Aceso I would've had hickeys the next day.

When he felt my hands on his jaw he knew that I was pleading that he kiss me, but instead he just nipped at my neck while he slowed his stroke. I'd never been this confused since my first time. Intent on displaying just as much control as him, I grabbed a handful of blond hair right at the roots, and forced him to stare into my eyes, just as contrasting as the two of us, fire and ice. Suddenly his mouth crashed into mine, our tongues dancing, fighting for dominance, dominance that he'd win only because he plowed into me and caught me off guard. He got up on his knees, lifting one of my legs up and I rested it on his shoulder. As he drilled into me he brought a hand to my clit and he began rubbing it fervently, and when I looked down I saw why I was hopelessly clawing at the floor: the speed at which his hand was moving was impossible for a normal man. My back arched as my muscles tensed, begging for the release that would come from my orgasm.

Despite the discomfort to do so I grabbed his shoulder with one hand, holding myself up with the other assisting my legs in holding my body up. That's when he almost became a blur, and I was unable to pace his speed.

"Please!" I screamed out, begging to come. My body just couldn't take it anymore. I felt myself frown as I got closer, "Unh!" I felt my walls clenching his girth, a cramp developed in my left thigh, but as the most intense orgasm was sent throughout my body I could barely feel it. It went down to my toes, released a weight that had been caught in my chest, and made its way out of my mouth in the form of a scream. I fell, my body shaking and limp as sweat coated my back and my neck. As tired as I was, I wasn't surprised to see Wesker, still up on his knees playing with his erection, and that sight alone made me shoot up. Without instruction I took him in my mouth, sucking so hard that my cheeks went in as my head bobbed back and forth along his dick. I tasted myself mixed with the cum that I was gradually getting out of him.

When I looked up to him I saw that his eyes were closed and his hands were on his hips. With a smirk I licked the tip of his head before sucking on it, jerking the shaft with my hands, and he frowned with an exhale of breath. Enjoying the sight of what I could do to him I brought my face in to his balls, sucking and licking at his sack and bringing on an unexpected action.

He grabbed hold of my hair with both hands, "Not yet," he groaned, and forced his dick back into my mouth. As he held my head in place he moved his hips back and forth, relying on me to only continue sucking, and I did. I felt him hitting the back of my throat, I was determined not to gag and ruin any part of this, not when the two of us were enjoying this so thoroughly. Once my throat had opened up more I was able to deep throat his erection without prompting, and he rested a large hand on my back while the other pulled my hair away from my face into a ponytail. Ignoring the pain in my jaw I continued sucking for a while longer, feeling him jerk every now and then with delight at the great job I was doing. What could I say, I had a good teacher? Since I'd managed to get him to calm down it was my turn to take the lead, and I stopped to push him back.

I planted both feet on either side of his hips while he stared up at me, and I lowered myself down slowly onto him, still sore from earlier. In a squatting position I lowered myself and raised up again until he was no longer inside of me, and then I lowered myself back down. There was something about reentrance that made him gasp out, and I did it every time. Things must have been going too slow for him though; he grabbed my hips and pulled me down all the way, causing me to cry out at the feeling of having him completely buried in me. He then held me in place as he bucked his hips up, plunging in and out of me. In and out, in and out until my legs began to shake once more and I had a sensation that I dreaded.

Afraid that I was going to end up pissing myself I yelled out, "Wait!" He ignored me, once again going too fast for any human man. Just as I felt it coming I jumped up a little, already embarrassed, and a gush of liquid sprayed over his stomach and sex. My legs shook so badly that I fell back, and for some reason that was just the best feeling I ever had, I was almost to the point of convulsing. Instead of frowning, Wesker only smirked at me, and I raised my brow in response.

"So you _can_ squirt," he mused, sitting up.

Still shaking from it I gave a laugh of relief, "So that's what that was?"

Rather than answer me he crawled on top of me, sticking his middle finger into me and hooking it. "Do it again," he whispered, thrusting his digit in and out of me probably as quickly as he could.

My limbs flew out as I felt it again, that feeling that I was ignorantly fighting in the past, but as I gave into it my body was sent into a shaking fit once more as my new favorite orgasm was felt in the pit of my stomach even. When I opened my eyes I saw the blond sucking his fingers, still smirking at me, and I knew that the animosity had dissipated. He guided me onto all fours and I was barely able to hold myself up, but I would for him. He was so hard that he didn't need to use his hands to direct his length into me, and it was almost too hard for me to take any more. At this point I was sure that he knew the shape that I was in and that no matter how fast I healed Aceso wasn't going to be able to stop me from feeling anything. As a means to make it more comfortable for me he entered slowly, but fully, and he pulled out just as cautiously.

Not wanting to be selfish I lifted my torso up until his chest was to my back so I could whisper, "It's ok." Embracing me tightly to hold me in place, he began pumping in and out again, gradually picking up his pace. "Fuck," I groaned as he almost reached his maximum speed.

"Claire!" he groaned, holding me so tightly that I couldn't bounce from the force.

"Albert!" Turning my neck as far as I could, our mouths met and I knew from his expression that he was coming. He went from going too fast to almost a complete stop as he gave one final thrust. I felt his cum shoot into me, and he attempted to enter me even further despite the fact that it was impossible. He gave that twitch that let me know that he was releasing his last bit, and he released a deep breath that I didn't even know he was holding. Almost reluctantly he eased out of me and I felt a sticky fluid ooze down between my thighs. When I turned to look at him I noticed much of his own cum had gotten onto his subsiding erection I came in to suck it off, tasting how sweet he was, and happily drawing the last bit from its source. Surprised at myself I looked up at him, pushing my hair back from my face, and he pulled me up into another kiss.

Boldly I locked eyes with him, no longer bothered by the slits for irises in the least. "Albert I love you."

He just grabbed my face and brought his forehead to mine, and I knew then and there that what wasn't said was there, being shown to me in his actions every day. The risks he took for me, the freedom he granted me, it all meant that I was so much more than a loose end or someone he owed a favor to. We had protected each other when the other needed it, we were lovers, I carried his child inside of me, and despite the danger that I was to his operations he kept me close. Had I meant nothing to him he could have left me in Mayo, better yet he could have stuck me in stasis. A man who thinks little of you doesn't hire someone to give you an alias and a makeover, that's what a man who values your wellbeing does. If Aceso was so important he would have gotten his data and tossed me aside, but I think that he knew that at least with this infection I'd be safer than I was as a human as long as the fact that the government wanted me was ignored.

With such reassuring thoughts swirling around in my head I planted a kiss on his lips, still weak, but still feeling an amazing surge of bliss as well. I'd never wanted something so badly in my life.

In the shower he was so tired that he had to hold himself up with one hand against the tile as he let the water pelt down on him, and I held him close to my chest with my cheek resting against his back. One of his hands held onto my wrist and I was surprised that we didn't collapse there, but we managed to wash off before almost throwing ourselves into the bed. I didn't question him not reciprocating my feelings, and I would not.

In the morning when I awoke alone I found a plane ticket for Germany and a bag of clothes for me. A new satellite phone was set up against the bag with a red string securing a note tied to it.

"In aeternum te amabo." It was signed –A. Wesker. I had no idea what the words meant, but just like last night I wouldn't question it. I put on one of the pairs of jeans from the bag and tucked the note away. The only way to show true loyalty sometimes was to not ask questions, and I wouldn't. And as I was expected I took a cab to the airport. And without question I knew that he'd be in Niebull waiting for me.

A/N: Claire had to be plucked out of SA because if not, how else was she gonna get back to Wesker? And don't be fooled. It won't forever be sunshine and rainbows. Claire has some "shit" to go through. It'll be brutal but I've known for a while it has to happen. After all, every couple has that extremely rough patch. Short chapter I know, but the next chapter will focus on the aftermath of the events in South America. I don't _plan_ on there being much if any Claire and Wesker… because at this point there'd be nothing but Claire wanting pillow talk. So no. As we all know though, Leon saw Claire so will he tell :O? If he does tell, what will Chris end up doing about his sister turning on him :O? Does Wesker _really_ trust Claire after her latest betrayal or will he be keeping an eye out for her? And Krauser's supposed to be turning to the darkside!


	24. Veritas

A/N: "Veritas" is Latin for "truth." Let's take the time to notice that I have not censored the last chapter… Yeah I'm that lazy. Plus, it's majority of the freaking chapter.

Ultimolu: I said it was going to be extra sexi-fied, not those exact words though.

littlevamp: Leon has always struck me as the friend HAS to tell at least one person, but one person that can keep a secret. I think Chris is pretty fed up with Claire, but if he saw her I'm kind of getting the feeling that he would forgive her and do just that. No matter what his character just cannot convince me that he'd throw away Claire. Like I say, I let the character tell me what they want to do so we'll see. Ah, Krauser… And the note, it took me hours to decide what it should say, the translation is online though, it's sweet saying. About us seeing them though, I lied. And trust, I drooled as I wrote that, winced a little too. No stalking intended, I was looking through your stories and your profile and if you get a random Facebook request that's me. You're very pretty by the way.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you! Sorry I took so long.

Gildagrhan: Yes! Mission success on my part then cause that's what I was going for lol. Here's your love!

Mystik Fire: Thank you. In the past I was always nervous about my sex scene skills.

MaddAlice: Well, if I ever stop evolving it let me know because then it's time to kill it. It's why I can't let things stay the same pace too long. But I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Treesharadia: Well I can't let you O.D. Small amounts my friend, but here's another dose.

cherry11111: Told you I'd update!

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. This story and all original characters are mine though. I also do not own Kool-Aid.

Optio

Chapter 24: Veritas

January 20, 2002 Sunday 2:26 PM

Subject: Kennedy, Leon Scott

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Unsure

A lot of crazy shit went down in South America, yet I was sure that every part of it, including Claire's presence and disappearance was real. Maritza was on the phone with her parents, which gave me some time to figure out if I was going to tell her that I saw her or not. I mean it was killing me keeping this bottled up to myself, and if I couldn't tell my partner then what the hell were we good for? Nodding my head to myself I took back the last of my beer and set the bottle back down on the table. It wasn't like Maritza was a spy, I said to myself, doing my best to convince myself that it would be okay if I just told this one person. Who else was I gonna tell, Chris? Ha, he'd throw a fit and probably hijack the nearest jet all in an attempt to head down to South America and sniff his way to Claire. It was bad enough that I wasn't even supposed to be talking to him, but we had something in common right now, and it was the biggest problem we'd ever faced.

"I thought they'd never stop talking!" Maritza groaned, plopping down next to me on the couch. Noticing my nervous disposition she got up to straddle me, grinning mischievously and brought her face in to mine. "Don't worry; you'll still get to-"

"I saw Claire!" Okay, that's not how I planned to do it.

With a nod she looked up. "What's going on Leon?" She went from playful to business just that fast, but it was much appreciated that she seemed to care so much about a woman that wasn't even her friend but mine.

For some reason I couldn't get this conjured up scene of Wesker and Claire out of my head; I knew they were screwing, and it made me sick to my stomach to know that she could do something like that knowing what he had done. The way she defended him let me know that she was seeing something in him that she liked, some part of him was so profound that she wanted to cling to it and protect it. She wanted to shut out all the rest and wave a flag for that one part of him that she cared about, it was all too obvious. Her attitude shift towards him wasn't because she owed him some great debt, but I knew that if I told Chris he would find some way to say that he tricked her. Thinking this way killed me but I knew that I couldn't pretend nothing was happening with her, not when she had gone so far as to change her appearance. "Illyria" didn't want to be found, which meant that Claire Redfield had to feel the same.

"Leon?" Maritza had climbed off of me, holding onto the front of my shirt, tugging in an attempt to bring me back from wherever I had gone. There was no point in trying to escape, not when even in my thoughts that unlikely couple still existed.

Grabbing Maritza by the head I whispered, "She's fine." I'm not sure why but I moved in for a kiss, probably trying to take my mind of the subject that I had abruptly brought up.

"Why isn't she coming back?" she pressed, pulling out of my hold. "Chris is worried sick about her. _You're_ worried about her."

"I…" My throat went dry as I tried to summon the words, but they just wouldn't come out. "They… I think she loves him."

Her eyes became wide. "I- Wesker? The bad guy who was responsible for Raccoon City being a crater?" My silence was enough of an answer to her, and she released my now wrinkled shirt from her grasp. "I thought her being pregnant was maybe from a mistake but you think she's actually sleeping with him on a nightly basis and they're… _dating_?"

Her incredulity was appreciated, almost making me laugh a little, because I knew that what she wanted to say was, "Well duh they're gonna fuck if they're together 24/7."

Looking straight ahead with a grimace she asked, "Um, that's… gross?"

"Look," I began, causing her to look back in my direction, "you don't have to pretend." Before she could protest I grabbed her hands. "Maritza, maybe your eyes are the ones that I need to see with. I don't understand what the hell is going through Claire's mind, hell I don't even know if she's sane right now, but if you can find something normal in this chaos then let me know." Hesitation kept her quiet, but I nodded to let her know that it was okay to say something if it meant that I could have some understanding.

"She lied and ran off with him."

"Yeah."

"There's no real reason for her to have done that except maybe fancy living." Before I could sigh she added in, "But I don't buy that." An extreme increase in sympathy became noticeable in her eyes, letting me know that she was trying her hardest to come up with something.

Remembering something Chris let slip I whispered, "She was protecting him."

"What?"

I rubbed my eyes tiredly, wanting to beat myself over the head for not realizing this sooner, and I only hoped the eldest Redfield didn't come to the same conclusion as me. "Wesker was vulnerable at the time Claire chose to run off with him."

"That doesn't make sense." At this point Maritza was beyond confused. "Leon why the hell would Claire help him instead of kill him?"

"They made some sort of deal." My mumbling was lost into my hand while I racked my brain to come up with a very plausible explanation for why she'd help him. What did Wesker have that Claire needed so badly other than funds for a broke college girl? Money couldn't have been a good enough reason, the girl qualified for plenty of grants and loans, and though student loans were hell it was better than owing a debt to the devil. "I don't know," I conceded, cradling my head in my hands in defeat. "What I do know is that Claire is still with him and that he's the only thing keeping her safe at this point. She's not pregnant anymore and I don't know what hell is going on with any of that."

"So you think it's better that she's with him?" Even though her voice was calm I knew that she probably saw me as losing my mind.

A little hesitant to speak so boldly about my employers I thought for a moment, daring to say what I had been thinking ever since I was under the US government's employ. "After I found out the US tried to buy the G-Virus off of Birkin? I know she is."

In a possible attempt to keep me from saying anything else like that she hugged the left side of my body, kissing my cheek before resting her head against my shoulder. The smell of her shampoo was strong, like berries, and for a second I was tempted. It was probably better that I allow Claire's situation to run through my mind rather than me run from it, especially when I knew I'd only bring it up later in the day. I could only hope that she would get in touch with me to make some sense of this insanity instead of letting me stay shut out in the dark. My people had no idea that she was with me on the mission, and Krauser swore not to tell a soul. He knew there was no point in sucking up to the US now that he was no longer any good to them, or maybe he knew how she felt. Jack was only wanted because of what he could do for them and now he couldn't do a damned thing. Claire was wanted because of what they could have done with her child, and had they got what they wanted from her she would have been useless.

Though I meant to think it I said out loud, "I hope she's valuable on her own."

January 20, 2002 Sunday 3:11 PM

Subject: Redfield, Chris

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Disappointed

The movers weren't very fragile, although there was no need for them to be since they were only taking Claire's clothes into storage. There was no point in keeping her apartment free if she was… I stared down at the engagement ring, thinking about giving it to Jill but that would have been so fucking cheap of me. Kind of sick too seeing as it was a gift from _him_. A part of me said to just hand it to the roughest looking mover but instead I just swallowed and tucked it back into my pocket. Why the hell was I putting any of this shit into storage in the first place? It wasn't like she was going to come back for anything, and it hurt me to admit that my only family left in this world probably didn't care that she had just left me all alone. Claire had done a lot of things I didn't like, drinking, smoking pot, getting a failed naval piercing, but never did I think she'd disappoint me so badly that I would contemplate letting her go for good.

"Chris we need you downstairs!"

The exclamation snapped me out of my bought with my depressing thoughts. Leon was gripping the door frame so hard that I thought it would crack, and his skin hugged his veins so tightly I was sure a vessel would burst. Without knowing if I would even follow he darted off down the hallway and Maritza passed by the door, arms crossed over her chest and a sad look on her face. Instead of continuing to stew in my misery I jogged out of the room and downstairs where she led me into an apartment. Leon looked nervous as he ushered me inside, and the feeling became contagious once I heard them shut the door behind me.

"What's going on?" I wasn't so sure what was interesting about an empty space, unless they were suggesting that I move into it, but I had no intention of remaining in Denver for much longer.

Instead of answering me, Leon walked to the middle of the room, scratching the back of his neck, and Maritza followed him at a much slower pace. For some reason I think she was more bothered than him, and this was a shock to me because I had never even witnessed her frown.

As he stared down at the floor, the brunet took a deep breath. "The first time I talked to this occupant he gave me a mouthful about Claire." The sound of her name almost made me flinch; I really didn't want to think about her anymore. "Last night when your movers came I expected for him to complain."

Maritza looked up at me and supplied me with the explanation Leon failed to give. "He had a problem with people making noise. Last night we didn't hear anything."

"Mr. Sidorov saw who Claire was running off with," Leon asserted, one hand on his hip and the other pointing down at the floor. "I came down here last night and no one answered the door."

My patience was growing short, and I wanted to give him a smartass answer to what he seemed to believe to be a mystery. "So, he moved out a while ago."

Face set serious as a heart attack, Maritza placed her hand on the agent's chest, and if it was to keep him calm I gotta say that Leon didn't intimidate me in the least bit. Lean or not he was still scrawny in comparison to me. "Chris, we saw Mr. Sidorov that morning bringing groceries into his apartment."

"I still don't see what's so interesting about this whole thing." I took a step forward. "Now, I know we're all upset and worried about Claire but there's nothing we can do if she made a decision for herself. I don't have time for conspiracy theories."

"Management said a Sidorov never lived in this apartment!" Leon's words filled the apartment, and they almost made me fall back.

"Terry's been here for sixteen years," Maritza added, looking angry now, and this attitude must have surfaced due to her knowing what went on in the shadows. She wasn't the naïve little woman that just thought my sister ran off, she was now involved. "Sidorov complained to him almost every day, and Terry complained about it more than that. So why in the hell would he pretend like this guy hadn't been here for a few years?"

I should have been able to piece things together from the part where Leon mentioned that Sidorov saw Claire leaving. "You think Wesker had him killed?" Fingering Wesker meant that I was also implicating my own sister, but would she really agree to have a life taken to keep them safe. No. Though I said I was at the point where I was willing to believe anything about her, I just couldn't imagine her doing something so selfish.

"I don't think so." Leon walked over to the window and peaked out of the cheap, yellow curtains that only served the purpose of keeping undesirables from knowing this space was vacant. "He wouldn't be that dumb, and Claire wouldn't let him be. She knew he'd been here for a while. Whoever it is, it's someone who doesn't know him so well."

"But why kill an old man who probably couldn't remember how to tie his shoes?" It made no sense to get rid of someone so close to a natural death, so close that a good scare probably would have done it. Hell they could have poisoned the guy and no one would have done an autopsy to check, I mean who was he to even suspect foul play? "I think I'm gonna need to check this guy out."

Holding herself, Maritza muttered, "His first name was Alexei." With what was possibly sadness she looked around a blinked a few times, "Excuse me, I can't be in here right now." Before I could ask her any more questions she swept out of the room.

Leon sighed to himself. "Chris you gotta think it's scaring her that something like this has been going on not just downstairs but across from her apartment."

With a nod I walked over to him, taking my time as I was a bit unsure how to approach him in such a situation. Patting him on the arm a few times seemed to lessen the wrinkles in his face, and his frown finally disappeared. "Maritza has done everything she could to help us. It's only right that I help to figure out what's going on here. If this guy was killed for spotting Wesker there's no telling whether or not what she knows will have her next on the list. We'll figure it out." If anyone was getting to Wesker that meant they'd get to Claire as well, and if anyone was punishing my baby sister for being linked to him, it was going to be me.

January 20, 2002 Sunday 3:20 PM

Subject: Arti, Maritza

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Anxious

"Sir, Alexei has been killed." Usually my job didn't have me nervous, but right now I was absolutely terrified that this whole thing would blow up in our faces. I truly believed it would eventually though, and nothing Wesker said could make me think otherwise anymore. I heard silence on the other end of the line, and I figured that he was stepping out of the bedroom. How nice it must have been to have this mess be a few time zones between them, while I was here pretending to be calm all the while sweating like a priest in a whorehouse. I should have never taken up employment with him, but I had to stick it to my colleagues and show them that I had what it took to work for and survive this madman's jobs.

His voice was like ice, not uncaring, but he certainly wasn't bothered at the news of losing a seasoned employee. "About time."

As much as I didn't like Alexei, he was my partner in this, and we were supposed to look out for one another.

"Do Leon and Chris know?"

"Now they do!" I hissed, peeking around the corner.

"Let them find out for themselves." He was definitely not concerned with what any of this meant for me.

Licking my lips, I inhaled deeply as I dared to disagree with him. "Sir this will implicate me!" The tone of my voice was pleading, something I had not intended, but the knowledge that he was apathetic about what I had built here struck a nerve. All I could think was, I have Leon here.

I could tell from the silence that he was thinking, but not about what I wanted, more like how to tell me off without screaming. "Miss Arti, you were sent there to distract, not become attached. That means that if you are implicated you are to come to me. That is a direct order that if you choose to disobey, will result in termination."

He didn't mean I'd be killed, just that I'd be on my own. The funds, the resources, they'd all be down the drain and I knew better than anyone that being a free agent was a dangerous game that only one woman had managed to pull off for so long. I hated to admit it, but she was better than me at my job, and she knew better than to pledge allegiance to Albert Wesker.

"If you must nudge the investigation along," he began, "do so, but all that matters is that the one responsible for Sidorov's death is revealed, even if your name is dragged through the mud."

Reluctantly, I said, "Yes sir." The line was cut, and I wanted to throw my cell phone down the hallway. If Leon and Chris found out who'd killed Sidorov, then who's to say that in retaliation and as a means to hurt Leon, that he wouldn't reveal my true motive for being here? It was bad enough that I really was who I claimed to be, and so my name- my real name would be forever tarnished. Just maybe though, I could use the fact that I never used an alias as a reason to trust me; I had never wanted Claire to be hurt, and I certainly never intended for her to be in the situation she was in now. No, I was making sure she was safe if anything, and I was actually doing them all a favor. The problem was if I had trouble believing that myself, then how could Leon? If the truth came out, I was done.

March 7, 2002 Thursday 4:02 PM

Subject: Krauser, Jack

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Nervous

Never had I felt self conscious in my life, until that fucking thing took my arm, and thus ended my career with the military. I wasn't sure why I had on a dressy coat, not when I had this goddamned sling on my arm. For all I knew, I was heading for my death and people were laughing at me on the inside. Hell, he'd probably laugh at me while killing me for actually finding him. At least I got to go to my grandfather's motherland…

However, maybe the man I came to see would understand that I was on his side, that we both wanted the same thing: power. He had a lot of it, and at this moment I needed just an eighth of it. As I neared the massive structure it had just dawned on me how well off this man must have been. The house had a thatched roof, as was apparently typical here, but it didn't have a beach-feel to it like the other houses. This one was bricked, a light brown color with a black door in the front and glass block windows of equal size on either side, and the material prevented anyone who might be gazing inside from getting a clear view. The lights were on in what was probably the foyer, but save for what was possibly a small table, the room was empty. Something else I couldn't help but notice was that this particular home was as isolated as possible from the others. For good reason I suspected. As I took in a deep breath I told myself it was now or never.

As if it would shock me I quickly jabbed the doorbell, hearing a few simple dings that were too humble for this place. While I waited I found my eyes wandering, not really finding anything out of the ordinary like a booby trap. And in this search for something that was not there I failed to notice any figure walking to the door from behind the clouded windows. The door flew in and I almost slipped back into my training for a moment, only to be met with the sight of a familiar face that I wasn't sure I'd see ever again.

"Jack?" Claire looked like she had seen a ghost, and I probably looked somewhat surprised as well, although I knew that there was a connection between the two of them. I just didn't expect for her to be answering the man's door in what was definitely not her black tee. I let my eyes wander down, taking in the sight of her smooth, white legs, and apparently she took notice; she stepped behind the door and cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?" Her frown showed that she was not comfortable with my presence in the least.

"I'm looking for Albert Wesker."

Her frown became a grimace. "You need to leave." She moved to close the door but my right arm shot out to keep it open. Her strength was no match for mine.

I twisted my body, realizing that she had managed to look over my sling, and once she spotted it she almost gasped. "I need help."

Her blue eyes seemed to soften as she grappled with the decision to leave me out in the cold or to let me take my chances inside.

I let up on the door, and she stopped pushing.

"Come in."

With a nod I thanked her, stepping over the threshold and noticing just how much cooler it was outside. I guess the fear of rejection had me sweating, and now I felt disgusting on top of worried. She shut and locked the door behind me, ushering me to the left, where it looked like I had stepped into a different world. It was safe to guess that Wesker had reconstructed the house entirely on the inside to look completely modern. Since she led me to the kitchen I could only guess that I was interrupting her midday snack or something, but when I saw a bunch of ingredients laid out on the slim counter with a stainless steel sink that interlocked with a much shorter breakfast counter, I understood that she was prepping for dinner. That was the last thing I expected to ever catch this chick doing, honestly I thought she was the type of girl to call a sandwich breakfast, lunch, and dinner while planning her spare time around her next nap.

She pulled out a chair for me and went over to the glass paned cabinets to pull out a deep blue glass for me and I took a seat in the chair that I didn't expect to hold me. Stone-faced, she set it before me and went over to what I thought was a pantry set into the wall and opened one of the beige doors to reveal one side of a refrigerator. Returning with what was obviously –at least to me- a margarita pitcher, she set it next to my glass for me to help myself.

I stared at the deep red liquid and inquired aloud, "What is it?"

In annoyance she said, "It's Kool-Aid, okay?"

Somehow I managed to keep my chuckle to myself as I poured myself a glass. Hell I wasn't gonna lie, I loved Kool-Aid.

"Stay. Here." As she walked off to the left of the refrigerator I scoffed at her treating me like I was a child, and watched her silhouette pass behind the blurred and blocked windows surrounding the refrigerator.

I'd never seen a more confusing kitchen in my life, with its stainless steel oven to the left of me, sandwiched between a dark brown cabinet beneath and two above. All of those were between four beige cabinets, the top two on either side ran the length of the two dark brown cabinets and the oven, while the bottom beige cabinets were only as large are the dark brown one they flanked. The floor didn't have tiles and was a very light blue color, giving a reflection to anything it could capture. The electric stove top right in front of me was held up by five beige cabinets and above it was the dark teal fan that was flanked by two cabinets that held what I saw to be necessities when preparing dishes.

"'Can only imagine what the rest of this place looks like," I grumbled taking a sip from my glass. I nervously looked back and forth at things that I had previously analyzed, desperate to make time go by faster if it could. It felt like I had been waiting for an hour until I finally hear some footsteps, but according to my watch it had been ten minutes. It was Claire, who had put on some black sneakers, red yoga pants, and a white tee with some stupid band's logo sloppily written diagonally across the front in what was supposed to look like black spray paint. The shirt sucked, but the yoga pants on the other hand…

Right before I could finish that thought I caught a dark figure in the corner of my eye that appeared to sweep into the room. Once my eyes landed on him and focused I jumped up out of my seat, yelling at myself to do something like salute or show some sort of reverence. I had seen pictures of him from newspaper clippings and databases, and just as every picture I'd seen him in not counting the ones from his S.T.A.R.S. days, he wore black. Since he was around the house I guess he felt comfortable enough to wear a black shirt specifically meant to hug his body and give hints of the muscles that lay beneath, however, I wasn't tooting my own horn when I thought to myself that my build was much more impressive. However, since my injury my body was slowly beginning to lose muscles mass and it was getting to the point that I'd drop seven pounds in a few days. Damn I needed this man's help, I was going to end up being a pathetic, average Joe living on government assistance for the rest of my life if he turned me away.

"Mr. Krauser," he said smoothly, staring at me, probably looking me over but I couldn't tell because of those unnecessary shades.

I looked to Claire who had tied her black hair into a ponytail as she chopped away at a bell pepper. I had forgotten that there was probably a reason that she didn't want to stare at me; I had a freaking scar running down my face. Hell, she could have been polite and asked what happened instead; then again it wouldn't have been a great story if I were to say, "Well, I got it in the helicopter crash I used to fake my death." I think the best way to get Wesker's sympathy to help me out would be by me reminding Claire that we fought together, while trying to keep the cogs from turning in her head. Women came up with the craziest shit, and my biggest fear was that she would turn into a hypocrite and say that this was a betrayal to Leon. I dared her to say her situation was any different than mine. At least she knew why I wanted Wesker's help just by looking at me, then again she didn't even bother to ask what happened to my arm.

"Sir," I began, hoping that my manners would win him over, but he interrupted me.

"How did you find me?"

"Those in the dark part of the world can always spot someone who's sincere."

As he crossed his arms he smirked a little at me, and he turned and leaned down to whisper something in Claire's ear, something that made her stop chopping. She looked shocked by whatever it was that he said, but that sassy mouth of hers sure wasn't firing off at him if she disagreed. Quickly she racked the contents of the chopping board into a large, blue bowl and she covered it with a dish towel before leaving the room. Oh shit I didn't like this.

I felt my whole body clench as he made his way around the counter to me, still smirking, even when he stopped before me. When I saw him finally move again I flinched, but he had only done it to take a seat. Confused, afraid, and feeling just a bit faint I almost fell back into my chair.

"Now Mr. Krauser, tell me what I can do for you." In one swift movement he removed his shades from his face, his eyes remained closed until the moment they touched the counter. Whatever my reaction was, it made his smirk become a grin that shook me to the core, and it was almost as frightening as having what I believed was hell staring straight from his eyes.

_I hope this isn't a mistake._

A/N: God, I hate Kool-Aid. Hmm, just realized the last date I used was seven years exactly before Wesker dies, it was also my 11th birthday, what a big day that was. And I lied about no Wesker and Claire. I thought about Wesker just seeing Krauser himself but then I was like, Claire's too nosey. I took so long to update because I had a hard time making myself sit down and do it during this break, plus there was job hunting and a short-lived job that tried to kill me. Also, I got pink-eye for the first time in my life from a baby and was sick for over a week, and I'm still coughing up a little phlegm. Anyway, when I first started writing this there was no "Sherry was with the US gov. crap," so in this story they just had to obtain her on their own instead of Leon handing her over. Damn it Capcom. I knew I'd have to factor her into this eventually. Review and I update faster! Break's very close to being over!


	25. Pacisco

A/N: "Pacisco" is Latin for "deal." So… I ended up lying. Once again, so sorry. Tired, work, bad sleep habits… drunken Independence Day… yeah..

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. This story and all original characters like Maritza Arti are mine though.

March 21, 2002 Friday 11:02 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Thoughtful

I hadn't seen Krauser since dinner the first day he came to us, I just remember him going downstairs with Wesker, and after that he wasn't even mentioned again. I sat at the window in my sweats and gray hoodie, staring out at the rain and gray that had taken over Sylt. This island was what I pictured heaven to be like, beautiful even on its dreariest day, but eventually the paradise got boring. The beaches were no fun, –mainly because I always went alone- German was no longer some awesome and completely foreign language to me now that I noticed it was so similar to English, and today was my twenty-third birthday without a club in sight. I was still young, and I needed to go out, I needed to dance and drink with people my age, and I needed to let Al (yeah we were at that point now) know this but I just didn't want to bother him with the desires that come with fleeting youth. With that thought I let my forehead fall towards the window.

The sound of what I assumed to be Al's footsteps snapped me out of my morose train of thought, and I immediately said, "I'll clean it when I'm done." When I didn't hear him walk away I turned around to see him smirking at me, and it wasn't very often that an occasion rolled by that called for him to smirk. It either meant his brain was churning out ideas which was bad, or that he thought I had done something… cute. "Lunch?" I assumed, pushing myself up and almost forgetting to wipe the smudge I'd left behind off of the window. I made my way towards the kitchen, but a faint glow from the dining room caught my eye. "Are we burning candles?" I looked back and noticed that he was still smirking, so I almost jumped into the room, and I couldn't control the smile that came over my face. Sitting in the middle of the table was a small chocolate frosted cake with twenty-three candles lit on top of it.

Despite this being sweet and simple in comparison to my last birthday present, I looked to him like he'd just given me the key to Harley-Davidson's headquarters. He remembered, and he didn't go overboard like someone who was trying to buy and keep my affections, or so it seemed. Just as I blew out the candles I noticed something gleaming in front of my cake, and he flipped on the lights so I could see. In a simple, red bowled vase a dozen roses rested, but what made them stand out was the texture, these were platinum. I touched one of the full blooms and asked, "Wait are these real?"

He leaned against the doorframe and gave a thoughtful look up at the ceiling. "There's some asinine saying about roses dying and bad luck, so I figured why not make them last forever?"

Before I could even catch myself I ran over to him and threw my body into his for a hug, actually managing to make him wobble a bit. To save myself from embarrassment I stared up at his shades and said calmly, "Thank you." When he showed signs of wanting to kiss me I reached up for his shades and placed them next to us on the small table meant for the plant in the corner; I refused to kiss him now when he had those things on. For a few seconds I looked into his eyes, and he brought his lips down to mine. It had been a while since we had been like this, calm and both in the mood. Lately intimacy between us had been used as a means to go to sleep, or at least pretend that we had spent some time together. I don't know what he had been doing lately, and at this moment it didn't matter.

He brought one hand to my waist and the other cupped my cheek. Running his tongue over my bottom lip almost made me smirk, but instead I allowed him to find my own. I tugged at the front of his shirt, my reward being his grip tightening on my waist, pulling me in even closer to him. The hand that was previously holding my face traveled to the back of my head, taking firm hold of my hair close to the roots. Quickly he leaned down to grab hold of my thigh and lift my leg up, the sign of trouble for the two of us. The cake could wait.

March 21, 2002 Friday 3:06 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Fine

With a smile on my face I stretched my body out, expecting to roll over into Al's bare chest to snuggle, but when I pried my eyes open I was disappointed to find nothing but an imprint in the sheets and mattress of his body. God, it was like he floated out of bed or something, I thought grumpily, placing the palm of my hand on the spot he had laid in not too long ago. Usually he made up his side of the bed at least, and his strange neglect to perform his ritual of quietly tidying up made me worry a little. If it was business I should have heard his phone vibrating for a reminder or a phone call, but there was nothing to indicate that he had something more important to do than fix his side of the bed. Trying to ease my mind, I got out of the bed and straightened out both of our sides just for my own sake. I went through the drawer on his side of the bed and decided to borrow one of his many pairs of identical, black shirts and I grabbed a pair of panties from my own drawer. It may have been late in the day but dammit it was my birthday and I had absolutely nothing else to do.

Just as I was about to leave the bedroom to stuff my face with cake I heard a buzzing coming from the bathroom, and I knew it had to have been Al's phone. About to shrug it off without a second thought I started for the door, until I realized just what I had looked over. He never left his phone laying around, not for anything, and the only reason he could have for abandoning what was essentially his lifeline was that something important was happening. The phone was here so he wasn't too far away. To test my luck I made my way downstairs, looking through the den and living room, hoping that maybe he was sitting down, reading one of those books you had to speak math to understand. Nope, no Al, not even in the kitchen, but then again there was no reason for him to be there. We only ate just so we'd have something to do rather than do it because we needed it. We didn't even need to sleep much now that I thought about it, but there was so little we did together that anything couple-like (human), we did it. Except for going out to dinner, taking walks past the backyard, or taking photos.

Speaking of photos our tables had no picture of us, just vases and statues that took up those places that should have had a happy image of the two of us in a frame. Who was I kidding, Al wasn't going to take a picture with me, not of him smiling in a picture at least, and he couldn't remove his shades for one either. I'd been trying lately though, hoping that in one of my random shots he'd be caught doing something in the background like watching television or staring thoughtfully at something that he was reading. Time interval shots weren't helping me either because he'd either be facing away or ended up blurred due to him striding quickly by.

I was so fucking bored, and so fucking disillusioned by whatever past fantasy I had that the two of us could have some sort of sex-on-the-beach-paradise life. I loved him, he kept me safe, and I didn't need to be here with him but I was choosing to remain at his side. And honestly, it was getting pretty lonely standing there when his mind was always elsewhere. The most attention I'd probably get from him in the coming months would be if I ovulated bi-annually as he hypothesized. His plan was to harvest a few eggs, see it if one could be fertilized, and grow whatever came of it to an age still young enough to where he wouldn't feel bad about terminating it. I mean, I was a pretty liberal person and it was better this way, testing before just trying to get knocked up right?

Damn, I needed some pot to deal with this shit.

March 21, 2002 Friday 3:15 PM

Subject: Krauser, Jack

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Fine

The mysterious horrors I encountered in South America had been nibbling at the back of my mind ever since that day I lost my arm. Javier Hidalgo was an impressive result of the labors of Umbrella, his daughter was even more so, and I'd go as far to say that she had been perfection. They were the reason I came all this way, the reason I decided to risk my wellbeing for a second shot at being the man I was before, at least physically. He said there were no guarantees, that even he was at risk for sacrificing himself all for nothing, but in the end it paid off. He was a traitor that put his faith in one, and now I had that very same option. We didn't know what would happen to me, he told me that the virus was unpredictable when injected into live tissue, and that for all he knew I would become something that would cause him to break a sweat in an effort to put me down. Yet, I didn't lose myself like Javier, I didn't succumb to the virus, and I woke up knowing exactly who I was, and what I was about.

I didn't want to cover myself up just yet, didn't want to pry myself away from the mirror image that almost brought me to my knees in an emotional fit. I wanted to stand there forever with my mouth ajar, shirtless, thanking whatever god gave me the strength and courage it took to come find Albert Wesker. With tears in my eyes I laughed to myself, gently grabbing my once ruined arm, almost sobbing to myself at the sensation of my own touch. The scar marring my face was all worth it, the feeling of being useful again. I was no longer that cripple standing in the corner of the train or that soldier that everyone felt obligated to thank, inside knowing that I was nothing to Uncle Sam anymore. They'd turned their backs on me and now I had loyalty to one man and one man alone: Wesker. He hadn't gone over everything just yet, and it seemed he was leaving out a very important detail but all I knew was I better than before thanks to him.

"Mr. Krauser."

Without checking for his reflection I instantly spun around, almost saluting him as my old soldier-boy habits crept up on me. "Sir?" Quickly I slipped on the white tee I had draped over the chair earlier, hoping that he did not see me as vain but appreciative of his efforts. "SirIjustwanttothankyouso-"

He held up a hand to quiet me, a small smirk on his face, and I smiled with a quick bow of my head. Like a predator he circled me, hands held behind his back as he examined his accomplishment. "Your arm has healed up quite nicely, however," he paused as he made his way back around, and it terrified me what that "but" in his voice could have meant. "I am not sure what mutation it may have undergone. It is a pity though seeing as I have a request for tonight."

My eyes widened and once more I began vomiting up words, "SirwhateveritisI'msureIcanhandleit!" I felt like I was back in high school, a pimple-faced virgin, when in reality I was back in my jock stage; powerful and able to crush anyone that got in my way. As a soldier I complained about joint pain, hunger, and worried about events that could ruin my career (rightfully so). Now I felt like I could hop over walls with ease, like I didn't need to eat for weeks, and like I could withstand a barrage of bullets. I wasn't about to test these things out just yet though, not in Wesker's house with Claire here.

"That arm of yours," he began, taking a few steps back, "could cause trouble. And though the last thing I need is a spectacle I have no choice but to trust in your willpower. You survived the transition after all."

What's he getting at, I asked myself.

"As frustrating as trial and error may be, it is Claire's birthday."

I went from skeptical to confused; was I supposed to be playing nanny here? Instead of asking though I kept that thought to myself, a voice in my head reminding me that I had just stated to myself that I would do anything that he asked of me. Well, I could name a few things that wouldn't happen, grateful or not. "What do you need me to do?" I finally asked, hoping that my hesitation didn't offend him.

His smirk disappeared so I knew that it was something he didn't want to do. "She is twenty-three today, and I need you to take her to Berlin. There is a rave she will be attending." His expression became darker as he crossed his arms, closing the gap between us. "I am not worried about her being spotted, it is the perfect place for her to enjoy herself, what I do fear is that she was only recently a college student that enjoyed herself… far beyond her limits. Despite my age it is a rave and it is Berlin and I need not own a _Playstation_ to know what happens in such settings."

Honestly I almost laughed out loud at his train of thought that owning a Playstation would equate to being "hip."

Not sensing that I was choking back laughter that threatened to explode he went on to add boastfully, "I was a '60s child after all."

As I managed to contain myself I grunted, "Gotcha boss."

"You have a six hour journey. Stay the night in Berlin, the last thing I need is for the two of you to sleep the coming days away." Before I could express my gratitude again he patted his pocket and frowned, quickly turning on his heel and walking away. I guess something more important than her birthday was going on, important enough to send her away instead of spending it with her.

March 21, 2002 Friday 4:03 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Skeptical

"Not too sure I can trust you." Krauser grabbed my suitcase that was too big for one night's stay, pretending not to hear my conversation with Wesker but I could tell that he was listening in whenever he passed by. The fact that he never looked at us was a dead giveaway, and if he knew what was good for him he'd keep his eavesdropping to a minimum before I forced the two of them to tell me exactly what the hell happened to where he could use his arm again. This whole secret alliance was making me wonder what Al had been up to recently, and if I should be getting a bomb shelter built for safe measures.

Without looking away from his computer, my significant other only threw out, "It's for your birthday."

As I neared the desk I gave a sigh. "And I'd believe that if you weren't so busy all of the sudden."

His eyes found mine, and I almost clapped at the fact that he was able to tear them away from his email long enough to engage me… or tell me to shut up and enjoy this freedom in a nice manner. "Claire, go have fun."

His words were final, I could tell because he just sat there staring me down, not even looking back to whatever had him so captivated in the first place. I should have learned to listen by now, but I just couldn't help worrying when I knew that something was on his mind. Whatever troubled him troubled me too, because if something happened to him then I'd be up shit creek, or either that I'd be stuck on this fucking island with a bunch of elitist families that looked at me like I'd eat their corgis. That look wasn't appreciated by the way, but what could I do about it anyhow?

Unable to keep himself pried away from the screen for too long he looked back down and instantly began typing. "I will tell you everything when you get back."

Somehow I had learned to trust him, and if he said something would be all right then I had no choice but to nod and go along with his advice. Still, my chest was heavy with worry, the pressure only building as I told my brain that soon we'd be on a plane headed to Berlin to enter a world of glow sticks and acid with Krauser over my shoulder the whole time. What a night tonight would be.

March 21, 2002 Friday 10:00 AM

Subject: Arti, Maritza

Location: Denver, Colorado

Status: Nervous

I hated packing, mainly because I hated unpacking; I'd left suitcases untouched for weeks before just because I hated taking things back out and placing back in their designated spots. Being such a clean woman wasn't an easy feat, and lately I really only wished to get extremely lazy and start throwing dishes, clothes, and anything else unneeded at the time in a big pile. However, I couldn't let my apartment's hygiene suffer, not when I had sensitive information stashed away that Leon would probably blow up a puppy mill over. Speaking of Leon he wasn't even out of bed yet, he just kept asking me if I was sure I didn't need him to come with me. Oh I needed him, I just couldn't have him there for whatever I would be off doing. The pretense under which I was leaving was that my grandmother had fallen ill and I needed to go to Sicily. Of course he wanted to meet my family, but I convinced him that the circumstances were not ideal; the visits from her family were to be about her, not about me and my lover. I think he was glad to get me out of Denver though because he wanted me safe away from whoever hurt Alexei.

However, I'm sure that safe was at the opposite end of the spectrum for me, and I had no clue what I was travelling for. All I knew was that I had to meet an associate of Wesker's from the Yukon at his hotel room by the airport, from there I'd go to the airport with him, and then we'd board a plan to Germany. It was just so hard for me to make myself do this though, and I realized now that I wanted out of this business, however, retirement was a good decade away for me. In ten years I could be long gone before I could cash out to live a happy life that didn't involve me falling in love with a target or keeping a pen-gun on me at all times. Oh God why couldn't I just finish a degree in something like accounting? Hell, I still could have gotten my boobs done on that salary, I could've definitely still afforded that little apartment, and I still would have been able meet Leon. Ugh, why was I questioning my decisions and centering the what ifs around him?

After parking just outside the sleazy looking hotel I let my head fall into the steering wheel, shutting my eyes so tightly that I felt a slight discomfort. Just as I was about to further berate myself and my decisions of the past I heard a light tapping noise against my window, and I looked up to who I assumed was Doctor Seaborne. Leaning over the cup holder I unlocked the passenger door and pushed it open for him.

I watched him as he threw some luggage in my back seat, not sure what I was expecting to happen. Maybe I expected to see him gingerly place something back there, something like a bomb, but I should have known better. Wesker and his close associates were not ones for those acts of terror. They were more subtle, and probably found explosions to be tacky and tasteless. For men so orderly, it was unlikely that they would partake in something that was responsible for so much chaos.

Quickly he ducked inside of the car and before he buckled himself in he set a thin, black briefcase on the floor in front of him. "Before we go to the airport I need you to stop at the little pharmacy down the street.

I didn't trust this guy, because I didn't trust people who had to swap briefcases, and I especially didn't trust him because he was a scientist that needed a bodyguard. After he was secured in his seat I quickly backed out of the parking spot, trying to get this over with as soon as possible. Then again I'd have to simply endure the flight across the world with him, hoping that no one decided to shoot us down for simply being affiliated with Wesker. I needed to calm down, no one knew, and no one would. I took a deep breath and turned onto the main street.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands I managed to find the words I had been searching for. "So, what's in the case?" Blunt yes, but I figured this was necessary.

I heard the smile in his voice as he said, "Hope." As we neared the pharmacy I saw a white transporter truck get into the lane behind me, the driver looking all too average to be just another driver out in the city for a shipment. Once I got into the turning lane he quickly did the same, and once the way was clear of oncoming traffic I turned into the pharmacy's parking lot, driving around back so no one would witness this. It was unnecessary for lives to be lost over something like this, and more importantly, I didn't need the blood of innocents on my hands after I had managed to avoid it for so long. I put the car in park and kept Seaborne in my peripheral, noticing how quickly he grabbed the suitcase before heading over to the driver who had just stepped out of his truck. They traded, and I felt for a moment that I needed to run the two of them over, because whatever was going on couldn't be good, especially if they were not being as inconspicuous as people working for my employer should have been.

With a sigh of regret I loosened the vice grip I'd had on the wheel, forcing myself to breathe out deeply, trying to force my body into believing that the situation was not a stressful one. But oh it was, mainly because I had no idea what the hell was going on.

Once Seaborne was back in the car I was already backing out, ready to get to the airport, ready to have that suitcase away from this city and Leon. I didn't care if it was only going to be around others once we touched down in Germany, I didn't care if I'd be around it the entire plane ride over, all I cared about was making sure that my job didn't ruin one man's life. He didn't ask to be a part of this, he never did.

"Ms. Arti?" Dr. Frankenstein had been staring at me for the longest apparently. Well, now it was apparent, because my mind had been so preoccupied that I was navigating through this traffic like I was on autopilot, something I tried to avoid falling into when on the road.

"Sir?" I asked, not trying to be polite because of what I felt, but because he was in charge of me for now, and therefore I had no choice but to treat him with respect. I was a soldier in a sense, and there was a chain of command that I had to follow no matter how much I disagreed with the circumstances.

"You seem quite bothered." His voice sounded like it held concern, but more so the kind one displayed for a child when they weren't getting their way, not the kind you showed for an adult with real problems. However, I'm quite sure he didn't seem to think there should have been a problem.

Instead of answering him, I merely shook my head with the smallest smile on my lips, one that I knew looked sad, betraying me and what I wanted to convey as a drone's apathy to how things were done. I was supposed to care about the job being done period.

March 21, 2002 Friday 11:00 AM

We were in a private plane; I'm not sure who owned it, probably Wesker. Hopefully Wesker, because then I'd know the agent on board was there to protect us, not there for a suicide mission to take us all down. I saw Seaborne get up to go the restroom once we were up in the air and he'd been gone a while, so I pulled out my cell quickly, looking around like I was guilty of some heinous crime. With a deep breath I dialed my apartment number, hoping that Leon didn't get too bored and go back to Washington. I needed to say something to him, but what could I tell him that wasn't an absolute lie? So like a coward, I hung up, unable to go through with telling him how I excited I'd be to see my No-No, how worried we all were about my grandmother's condition. As I shut my eyes and muttered to myself I felt Dr. Seaborne sweep by me to take his seat across from me, and as much as I wanted to instantly fall asleep and just wake up in Germany, I knew that my anxiety would prevent that from happening. So pried my lids open to stare him in his pretentious face, hating that smile of his, those stupid, rectangular glasses that sat low on his long nose, and his hairline that was receding slightly around the sides.

The guy looked like the kind of doctor that had no problem doing what he could to get ahead, and being that he worked for the same guy I did, I was pretty sure that's exactly who he was. He was a black market doctor, one that money could sell and buy for the most asinine experiments, and for that he was to be feared.

I must have been caught staring because he said, "You look like something is on your mind Agent Arti."

"I'm not paid to offer my opinion," I admitted, feeling less powerful than I acted. I wasn't sure how he'd react to me asking questions, and I wasn't sure how Wesker would react if the dear doctor were to air his concerns about my independent thinking.

"Oh come, I wouldn't be a scientist if didn't ask questions. I encourage everyone to do so." He straightened out his tie and sat back into the leather, crossing a long leg over the other. "Could I get a glass of red wine please?" He called, assuming that someone would do his bidding without any specifications needed.

Though I intended to display arrogance since apathy wasn't an option, I ended up showing that I was unsure about playing his little game by biting at my bottom lip. "Why do you need me to assist you to Germany?" It would have been too straightforward, too dumb to outright ask why we were going, instead I needed to question why my presence was necessary. Why did I need to leave my post so suddenly when Sergei was just now starting to slip up?

As if he saw right through me he gave a smirk at the carpet, looking back up only when the fake, redheaded flight attendant came over with a cart. Her lips were painted a darker red than her dye job, her skin not too pale, but it helped give her back the naturalness that the hair took away. She didn't smile as she poured a huge glass of something I had never heard of for Seaborne. No doubt it was some elitist shit he could only afford after he began working for our employer. He nodded as she handed it over to him.

In a voice that came out both soft and sexy she asked me, "Would you like anything?"

Without looking away from the doctor I said, "Cranberry juice and Vodka." My request seemed to amuse him, because his smirk grew even wider as he took a sip of his drink. He should have been happy that I didn't ask for what I really wanted, which was a straight shot of tequila, but I decided to show some respect for this job by at least watering it down.

After taking a sip from his glass, the scientist gave a look of satisfaction and looked back to me with the widest smirk his face could hold. "There is important work I have been summoned to take part of Ms. Arti."

Tired of his pompous attitude I snapped, "It's Maritza. And there's no way you were Claire's gynecologist with this attitude so I suggest whatever act you have going on, needs to stop."

As the flight attendant handed me my drink I saw her trying to prevent a smile of amusement from forming, something which bolstered my own ego.

"Cheers," I said, tilting my glass to Seaborne.

Looking wounded, set his drink on the tray next to him. "How do you know about that?"

With a laugh I sat back into the chair, crossing my legs. "How disposable do you think I am to Wesker?" I knew he wouldn't dare answer since my show of arrogance that rivaled his own, so I didn't leave him any room to answer. "My position does not ensure complete disclosure, however, given that Claire is important to our employer and I'm the one looking out for her reputation it's a given that I know of any preexisting relationship a colleague of mine may have with her. It's imperative that I know the nature of the relationship, but not that I know of any work you are sent to take part of with Wesker." Feeling quite content with my accomplishment of wiping the smug from his face, I took a swallow of my beverage before placing it in the cup holder.

His chest rose and fell in defeat, and I knew that I was right. Claire wouldn't let this guy touch her voluntarily if he was as big of an ass as he was acting right now, and this had to be a defense to keep him from spilling any info while also acting as a method to keep me at bay. "Claire and our employer could change the future," he sighed. "And I could be a part of this. BOW's were supposed to be constantly manufactured. If they could be bred-"

"What?!" I almost jumped forward once I began to grasp what he was saying. "Are you crazy?! You want a nest of humping Hunters running around?!"

His voice rose louder than mine as he jumped to his feet to vehemently defend his work. "Do you have any idea the amount of patience, money, and donors it takes to create _one_ Tyrant?! One that could for all we know be unstable? If Ms. Redfield and Doctor Wesker could produce a child that has some sliver of humanity do you know what that could do for our work? The human race could be made invincible! We could withstand just about anything! Our descendents would no longer be susceptible to AIDS, Ebola, Malaria, and the longevity would be icing on the cake-"

My outrage would trump his passion. "We wouldn't be human! You think we could just birth super soldiers that would bow down to mommy and daddy when they know they could live without us? They'd be as much human as your little chimeras. We've manipulated viruses enough Doctor! They've been on this planet _a lot_ longer than we have, and they're a lot better at ensuring it stays that way. There's a drawback to Claire's infection and obviously to Wesker's if he can't knock up an uninfected woman without killing her and producing something from an Alien movie! I mean have you ever heard of two people infected with something giving birth to a fucking mutant with special powers?"

Shaking his head, he slumped back into his chair and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "You obviously don't understand DNA. You know nothing about-"

"What? Manipulating phenotypes and chromosomes? Genetically altered babies? Three parents to a child? Yeah, mainstream media doesn't know what happens behind government doors but I do. And I know that you and yours are at least a century ahead of them, which is only half of that ahead of where we think we are. I thought you guys were smart."

The cabin grew quiet, and I let my eyes wander to the closed window. Sighing to myself, I pushed up the shade and stared out the mixture of blue and white surrounding us. Seaborne didn't even exist in my peripheral I was so lost in thought. I wasn't sure what to think of everything I had just heard, not when I knew that the relationship between Claire and Wesker had more to it than what even Leon saw or felt. A part of me nagged that this was what Wesker was about, while some small piece of me that had been reduced to sniveling sentiment shouted that maybe he wanted for Claire to have this as some consolation prize. That part of me, however, took that idea and ran with it as it began chattering excitedly that he wanted to give her a baby, to give her a legacy. It said that it would be the greatest thing he could do for her at this point, something to love, something to protect so she wouldn't have to constantly be the protected, and something he could use to prove… It trailed off there; the sentimental fraction of me couldn't even dare to suggest that what he felt for her was love.

With a small, sad laugh, I picked up my glass, choking back a sudden desire to cry. I couldn't even say I really loved Leon. No good person would be doing what I was doing and claiming there was love involved. It felt like love, but my omissions kept it from being that, and it felt like someone had taken hold of my heart in that moment. When I caught Seaborne staring at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking I took a gulp of the juice and liquor. My eyes wandered to seated attendant. "Six shots of Patron."

With his spirit crushed almost as badly as mine, the doctor popped the button at the top of his collar. This was going to be a long flight.

A/N: I was thinking about doing a fic based on the second season of American Horror Story. But I have no clue how to go about it. Hell, maybe even the first one. I love that show. Sigh. If anyone is interested in seeing such a fic let me know and give me an idea. I know who a few characters would be. Anywho, next chapter will be Claire at a rave (would've put that in this chapter but I have to go to work)! And Claire will also be finding out what Wesker is up to! Stay tuned and review!


	26. Mundus Novus

A/N: "Mundus Novus," is Latin for "New World." Busy, work, school, blah, blah, blah and I wasn't exactly stimulated by the number of reviews last time. I know I'm needy. However, this is littlevamp's gift :) Also I think I forgot to do shout outs for chapter 24. Sorry if so :( It should help though that since my teachers seemed to have lost their marbles and ability to even teach, I now write in class. This notebook wasn't cheap damn it and it's gonna be used for something. However, near the end of October it will probably be harder on me to write at all since I have three Psych projects coming up. Fun… So I'm delivering now! And excuse me if that avi sucks because I have no idea what the hell to do to make it work DX

littlevamp: Happy birthday and I wish you much success.

Someday136: I can't remember if I pm'd you back it's been so long. Bad me!

Lady Snowstorm: Thank you, I'm just taking things a day at a time.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you, and you take care too.

Haveyouseenmyghost: Thanks, I was worried about my ability to write Krauser.

saddlebrat: Thank you! Always nice to hear from someone new. Here it is!

Optio

Chapter 26: Mundus Novus

March 21, 2002 Friday 11:27 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Berlin, Germany

Status: Excited

People were stumbling out, still ready for another round of whatever poison they decided on tonight. Men without shirts howled at the sky, and women in what they considered clothes handed out glow sticks to those yet to get drunk... Or high. Jack, ever the soldier stood observing the rowdy crowd with his massive arms crossed, and I almost blurted out that he looked like a cop more than a bodyguard; however, I think it would've been quite a boneheaded move to mention any type of law enforcement at this scene. He looked very much like a Wesker protégé tonight in a black body shirt, although the blue jeans were a visual reminder that he was no Wesker. I tried to ignore my own choice of attire I guess by criticizing Jack's. The girls here made me feel like I'd become too stuffy and modest; I mean, I thought a tube too was enough skin, but apparently to not stand out as overdressed I needed to take off my jeans and just call my underwear a pair of shorts. Damn it German youth.

The girls that were draping glow sticks around people's necks came over to us, yelling excitedly in their native tongue, but I could only make out a few things they were saying only because English and German were close. Seriously, I only spoke enough to get by.

Before I could give Jack a rough translation he yelled, "They said, 'Don't be shy, come on inside,'" something that almost pissed me off until I realized he understood them completely.

"You speak German?" I began walking to the door of the club.

"My last name's Krauser remember?"

Oddly enough, I didn't take his reply as smartass, but I actually smiled, finding it interesting that he wasn't just a meathead with no brain. Of course as much as I enjoyed the thought of being buddies with my bodyguard, I was soon introduced to an almost impossible amount of stimuli. The noise had been loud but almost background music outside, now though it was so loud that the bass was causing an obvious (to me) thump in my chest that refused to synch with my heartbeat, the darkness was making my other senses more sensitive too quickly to make up for my lack of visual acuity, and then the strobe lights started up. The rainbow of colors shot from wall to wall, not staying in place top long unless it was to morph into some generic flower shape. How in the fuck did this not cause a bad reaction with whatever kind of drugs everyone here was on?!

"Never been to one of these!" Jack yelled, startling me out of my assessment.

"Only in America." Of course our raves were less… awesome? Not like I'd get to experience it to the extent I did with the raves on US soil anyhow. I doubt Al would have appreciated me doing even the most microscopic line of blow, not that I had a desire to anyway, However, people were more willing to share heroine and coke than they were weed.

"Well?" Jack was holding his arms out as a means to ask what I was up for. I mean that was a good question, I didn't know anyone here, -I don't think- and if I got drunk I feared what would happen. Would Jack have to hold my hair tonight? Kick a stoned offender's ass? A woman with short, pink hair and a lip ring walked over to us, tray in hand, and under the flashing lights they looked like vials to me.

Before I could ask what it was though, Jack grabbed my two of them, "Danke!"

"What is it?"

He handed me one. "I don't know!"

I held it up to see if I could determine the liquid by its scent, but just as the tune was level with my mouth, Jack pushed my elbow up, forcing me to catch the mystery drink in my mouth before it spilled down into my top. As I guzzled it down I could make out his form in the dark, taking his vial to the head. It wasn't until after his touch was no longer felt against my elbow that I felt all the incredibly, impossibly bitter taste that had been contained in the tiny tube. I felt the alcohol all right, and I hadn't even begun walking but I felt better once I saw Jack grimace.

He looked pained as he exclaimed, "It's Absinthe!"

"_Real _Absinthe?"

Taking the tube away from me slowly he said, "Let's hope not." He placed our empty vials on the tray of one of the funky-haired girls who were prancing around serving the Absinthe. "I don't think Wesker would appreciate you overdosing on neurotoxin."

"Oh I'd be fine!" I yelled back, starting to feel a bit warm.

Frowning, yet slightly smiling he asked, "What?"

Another waitress passed by, and before Jack could stop me I grabbed avail and took it to the head, stomping my feet at the bitter taste.

"_Please_ don't be a sloppy drunk!" his voice was pleading, probably with the fear that Al would lose his shit if I passed out in my own vomit in the dark. More than likely he'd just shake his head, grin a little if he was in a good mood. Jack worried too much, however, it wasn't as simple as laying his head on Al's lap to be forgiven… thank God. "Just try not to black out and disappear in here okay?"

With a mischievous grin I wriggled my brow. "Never had Absinthe! No promises!" As I attempted to take a step forward I felt my legs turning into jello and my body felt so much warmer and loose.

Jack's arms shot out to stabilize me, his strength surprising me. That once ruined arm must have gotten a pretty good crash course in rehab, because I could tell that the grip in it was stronger than his other one. He seemed to know what I was thinking, or he felt a bout of self-consciousness since he let go.

Because our staring became too awkward I tried to look away, only to make the moment worse when my eyes caught what I could only describe as a red glow. It was so subtle that I could have been imagining it. I mean, it could've been an effect of the glow stick… which was green. But it didn't help that when the strobe light went dark and the glow was more noticeable.

When he finally noticed the light he was emitting, he grabbed hold of his limb. "Wait here!" He tried to look calm, but failed when he bulldozed his way through the crowd.

Good job Claire, I thought to myself, feeling oddly vulnerable in the sea of German ravers. Just as those pesky feelings of loneliness crept up I caught the sight of a girl upon a platform, swinging her hair crazily, so crazily that she missed the beat a few times, but no way was she stopping. Something about the girl seemed oddly familiar, but I didn't know anyone with two-toned hair. The top layer of her tresses was blonde, the bottom black, she was a little pale, and she possessed a tight, slender body. Her implants were so firm that despite her head-banging and gyrating, that there wasn't a single nip-slip even though they were bound only by a black bustier. In all her wild dancing I failed to notice her bottoms were only a pair of black, low-rise panties. I guess her furry boots were supposed to make up for being half naked.

I know I was supposed to stay in place, but I fucking knew this girl, and to get a better view I maneuvered through the crowd of people, feeling my head swirl just a bit. Initially I hadn't planned on getting that close, but I was about six feet away.

The woman's head flew back, her hair flying out around her, and because so much time had passed the song ended, and she noticed me staring.

"Sara?!"

March 21, 2002 Friday 10:15 PM

Subject: Arti, Maritza

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Sobering up; exhausted

I'd never been to Sylt before, and just by looking at the homes I totally saw why. Seaborne looked like he was at Disney World and given the key (the greedy idiot). Honestly though, the houses were nice, so I would cut the scientist some slack right now, especially since we'd managed to make our whole trip awkward, thereby resigning ourselves to a weird isolation that neither of us had low enough amounts of pride to break.

As we neared the front door I asked seriously, "This kind of place you aspire to live in doctor?" I rang the doorbell since he seemed to be too paralyzed by the "majesty" of the home. It wasn't even a mansion. It was an oversized piece of German architecture on overvalued land.

He quickly muttered, "It is a lovely home."

As the door slowly opened to us, I wanted to kick myself for thinking I'd see our employer standing there, but he didn't greet people; he was the boss. My train of thought though was only on such a track because I never thought she would open the door to me, and I certainly never believed she'd show herself to anyone with hopes of being her competition.

"Hello," she purred, stepping back to open the door wider for us. As I waited for Seaborne to cross the threshold I stared at the infamous Ada Wong, taking her in without fear of being caught doing so. So this was the woman who was partially responsible for Leon still being around and despite my gratefulness I hated that she had to be the one.

Once I stepped into the foyer I extended a hand to her, and with an indiscernible expression she took it into her own, shaking twice. God that bitch had soft hands, and that's how she probably reeled people in, under the pretense that she was some delicate flower. "Maritza Arti."

The name, "Ada Wong," left her plum tinted lips smoothly as she shut the door, grace in the slightest move that she made. Even her blue jeans looked professional on her, her red blouse fitting her skinny frame perfectly.

"Where is Dr. Wesker?" Seaborne had faded off into the foyer, out of my own reality until I heard his question.

"Here." The deep voice alarmed my company and me, but Ada stood there, statuesque and unwavering in the presence of one the world's most wanted men, only shadowed bin Laden. But if the world knew most of the shit he'd done…

Seaborne looked like he was about to throw himself at his master's feet, but instead he bowed his head. "Sir."

The man he was treated like an untouchable god shook his hand. "Dr. Seaborne." I swear that kiss-up lit up like the 4th, and he'd already known the man prior to this! "Miss Arti."

Shaken from my nasty thoughts about my coworker, I tried to play cool by only saying, "Hey." Noticing how dark the house was I peeked into the hallway curiously. "Where's Claire?"

Still in his usual business tone, he ushered us into the hallway, "Claire is out. Enjoying Berlin for her birthday."

Seaborne eagerly followed Ada further into the house, but I slowed down to match Wesker's pace. "Alone?"

Scoffing, he placed a hand on my back to either ease me or force me along. "Of course not, she is in good hands." Before I could ask if he was certain he added, "Even if she were alone, she'd still be fine."

My mouth was set to inquire further, but we had reached the kitchen where Ada was already getting Seaborne to help her bring some plates into what I assumed was the dining room. Wesker was always an imposing figure and even though he was coming off quite domestic right now I wouldn't dare mention it. The guy was over six feet tall, he had unlimited resources and power I didn't want an opportunity to gauge, so I'd behave tonight. We walked past a dark den and right into the dimly lit -and rather unimpressive- dining room. My mind was occupied with too many things to worry about décor though, and I went on autopilot as I took a seat near the middle of the table, Ada sitting right across from me while Seaborne sat at one end, Wesker at the other. Two dishes were set before each of us, one holding your generic garden salad, and the other containing steak, brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes. What I really wanted was to just throw back the glass of champagne next to my meal but I decided against it since I knew after today I needed to limit myself to only one glass.

"How kind of you Ms. Wong to prepare dinner for us," Seaborne almost exclaimed, getting in where he could.

Deciding to at least pretend that I cared about showing any civility I added, "Yes, thank you for this. I know it's quite late."

Her smile bothered me so much; it seemed like she always knew something we didn't, and that was surely the case but to portray such thoughts at every moment? She took a sip of her champagne, holding the glass close to her face even after she was done, "It's no trouble at all. We're all allies here."

But not friends, I thought coldly, knowing that my feelings toward her were totally unfair since she probably didn't even know that I was dating Leon. However, disclosure was a tricky thing, and it all depended on if she worked _for_ Wesker or _with_ him. The difference mattered greatly as he had no true obligation to tell her depending on their work relationship, but I doubt someone like him would intentionally create conflict between us when we were all here to help. I just wasn't sure what I was helping Seaborne help Wesker with. Somehow I had missed everyone digging in, and so I made the sign of the cross before doing the same, earning an odd glance from Seaborne. His attention was ignored, as I really didn't give an elephant squat what he thought about me still choosing to recognize how I was brought up. When no one addressed it though, he continued to nibble away at his salad, probably hating that he was the only hardcore scientist here.

This dinner wasn't meant for talk obviously, it was meant as a thank you for the coming days here, and I would not ruin this for my employer by acting out. I was sure that after this we would be shown to a temporary room before being shipped off to Berlin tomorrow. Any questions would be saved for after dinner, something I'm sure Ada would appreciate, and she was the last person I needed to piss off. She needed to stay far away from Denver, and far away from the subject of Leon. Too bad the latter desire of mine would most likely go unfulfilled, because there was a slight chance Wesker could hit home tonight.

March 21, 2002 Friday 11:52 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Berlin, Germany

Status: Nervous

Oh shit, was all I could think right now, the scenarios of how this could end playing out in my head, all of them ending in our relocation and possibly the silencing of a familiar face.

Like the Energizer Bunny on crack, the girl with the two-toned hair jumped down from the platform and dove at me. The hug she surprised me with crushed me with its force, and I think one of her nipples finally broke free of the bustier.

"Hi, Stephanie," I said nervously.

She pulled back to look at me, obviously taking note of my change in hair color, but I don't even think in the dim light that she noticed I was wearing contacts as well. "Where have you been?!" Rather than wait for what would've been at least a thirty second delay while I came up with a lie, she grabbed my face and pulled me into a kiss. The last time this happened I could've sworn that I told her I wasn't a lesbian, but I also ended up having sex with a woman not too long after that… Being as tipsy as I was, I took a little more time than I would've liked to pull away, but when she tried to pry my mouth open with her tongue my body started working again and I escaped her lip lock. "We need to talk!" Without the option to object being given, she grabbed hold of my hand and began to lead me back to the club entrance, snaking around people quickly, and even when she ran into someone she just kept going. When we emerged I felt the difference in temperature immediately despite the Absinthe in my system, but because of it I didn't mind too much. Stephanie had to have been both high and drunk though to be outside in what I considered underwear, but I wouldn't dare question her sense of fashion out of fear that she'd probably attempt to get naked.

She led me a little ways down the street where we would be able to understand each other without yelling directly into each others' eardrums something I'm sure mine appreciated. "Oh my God it's so good to see you!" she yelled, hugging me from the side, but I made sure to hold my face away at a safe distance since it seemed that these surprise kisses were going to become a regular thing from her. "Dude where the fuck have you been?"

When she began to stumble I took it upon myself to anchor us to a spot against the building neighboring the club, knowing that the alcohol in my system would not help me at all if she did a face plant while hanging on to me. "Stephanie what are you doing here?"

Ruffling her hair, she looked at me before pinning me between her and the brick wall, still holding onto my hand. "I know what I _want_ to be doing," she said with a playful giggle.

"Dancing?"

My attempt to carefully divert her thoughts away from screwing me had obviously failed when she shook her head. "You can call it that. Hey, wanna see my boob-job?" Okay, she was obviously high, because she didn't even pause to hear me, and in less than a second I was looking down at a pair of perfect DDs. "You can touch them," she whispered, stumbling back and forcing me to grab her hands to steady her. Why the hell was I surrounded by oversexed nymphos with shelf tits so much? More importantly, why did they assume that I was down for getting gone down on? Just as that thought formed, Stephanie whispered, "I'm the best at what I do."

"Stephanie," I said sternly, holding her by her shoulders, "you're drunk."

"And up on X," she laughed. This explained a lot. "But you know I've always been into you," she added, ruining my theory.

In a moment of sheer exasperation I asked the sky, "Do I have lesbian pheromones or something?"

That made her back off, and she leaned against the wall next to me, still smiling. "You _do_ give off a vibe." She leaned down, scaring me for a second, but then she came back up holding a lighter and a cigarette. I was sure that those items came out of her boots, or at least I hoped they did. As she lit the stick she cupped her hand over the flame, taking a few puffs. "So, how's Mr. S, I see no ring?" _That _she noticed?

"Well, I didn't think it was a good idea to have it on at a rave." The lie came so easily, but the truth bothered me deeply; that ring was at my apartment last I checked, and I know Chris had found it. Along with the fancy dresses I never asked for, the loads of Victoria's Secret casual wear that was totally overpriced, and the designer blouses and shoes, he found that engagement ring. He knew I was off with Al and he knew there was a ring worth well over ten grand.

Rather than use that sentence to her advantage and say something else insinuating that she wanted to sleep with me, she seemed to notice that my mood had shifted. However, she took the serious tone and decided to speak accordingly on a subject that I had thought about a few times during and after fleeing Red Lodge. "What the hell happened the day you guys left?" She took a drag of her cigarette before offering it to me. "At first we heard you left for family reasons but then people started coming forward about a break-in, a shootout, and some crazy hick said you guys were spies or some shit."

I took a hit from her cigarette, only because I needed those three seconds to come up with something believable. "No, it was just some serious family shit." I tried to pretend that I didn't taste the tobacco, and that it didn't bother. Oh, it did.

Sighing. she tilted her head back to look up at the sky, but in her current state I was sure she was looking beyond just the dome of black and stars. "Some doctor nearby jumped on the spy bandwagon after that."

Calm on the outside, but burning up with dread on the inside I turned to face her. "Stephanie, you know how crazy that sounds?"

With a shake of her head she prematurely threw the cigarette to the ground and faced me. "Sara, your hair and eyebrows are dyed, you're wearing contact lenses, and you disappeared off the face of the planet until now." Frustrated, she pushed herself up from her slouching position, "I mean fuck, is your name even Sara?"

As I saw her preparing to take off I almost yelled, "No," to both her leaving and her question. "If you knew my real name it'd only get you in trouble. And if you really knew his name you'd be in even more trouble." I could have let her go, storm back into the club and jump back on stage, but if she remembered this night and went back to Red Lodge, there was a chance she'd mention us. Red Lodge would talk, people would hear. Chris would hear.

"You were the first person I told. When I told my parents… my mom freaked. My dad said it didn't matter, and I think he he'd known for a while. So I enrolled in school, took a few business classes, he bought me new tits, and my mom finally started speaking to me when I needed help sitting up on the couch. I was becoming her baby again." Her lip quivered and she looked to me, tears dripping from her eyes like water from a broken faucet. "Then she started asking if it was that Sara Ivanov's fault. If you did something to me when I stayed with you guys. I never wanted your fiancé Sara but I knew she wanted me to, and I knew I wanted something else when I dreamed about you in your home."

So that night was weirder than I had originally thought.

"You made me realize that there was no point in hiding from those things anymore. And my mom realized I could still be her beautiful little girl who wore high heels and loved lipstick. And she realized that she could love me even if I loved women."

I'd thrown her world off its axis and I never realized it until now. I was flattered that I gave her the courage she needed to finally come out, but this was my birthday and now I was hearing about the bomb that went off after I fled Red Lodge. I was starting to think it would've been easier for me to just let her tongue wrestle me and feel me up the whole night. Selfish as it sounded I didn't get to jet anywhere because I felt like it, -contrary to her belief- and I didn't get to make a spectacle of myself without fear of consequence anymore.

I was about to give her my new alias to make up for all that she'd gone through, figuring that it wouldn't do any harm since it's what I'd tell anyone else, but the sound of a man yelling stopped me, and we both looked around to see where the noise was coming from.

"Claire! Claire where are you!"

Fuck me, I thought, seeing Krauser zip in our direction at a speed I didn't know a man his size could sprint. Then again, Al's anger was plenty incentive to run a marathon from Denver to LA. Before he ran all over Berlin screaming out my entire name I pushed myself off of the brick to wave him down. "Here Jack!" Stephanie looked confused, and I only said, "Obviously, I'm Claire." We watched him come to halt and he came over to me, giving me a look over like I was a recovered child. "I'm fine." There was no point in making him worry more than he already had, especially with his whole glowing arm thing.

Jack did a double take at Stephanie, possibly realizing that he had been calling me by my real name. He was so slow to catch up, in Mixcoatl it was Illyria even after he knew it was Claire and now he was calling me Claire when I was supposed to be Illyria. "I was looking all over for you."

"No shit," I muttered. "This is Steph. She's an old friend." I placed a hand on her shoulder, and she began to wipe away her tears. "This is Jack."

"Hi." The blond wasn't sure whether to shake her hand, but I think it was best if he just kept his distance because I wasn't too sure that I wanted Al to know she was here.

With a sniff she said, "Hey."

An awkward silence fell upon us so I licked my lips and offered an explanation for Jack, one that was quite true. "Jack is my bodyguard." Of course for a second I questioned myself in divulging that information since it would only further cause her to question exactly who I was and what I was into.

"You don't have to explain." With Stephanie's last statement came a feeling of relief.

Despite the hole I'd dug for myself tonight I managed to smile, and possibly for the sake of saving the night so did Jack and Stephanie. "It's my twenty-third birthday."

"Then shouldn't you be raving with your friend?" Jack's deep voice caught me off guard, but his words surprised me more than anything.

In a form of silent agreement, Stephanie grabbed my hand and we started walking back to the club, Jack lingering behind us. With a quick glance back I noticed him looking down at that arm of his, but we would deal with that when we got back to Sylt, and Al would know what to do. I just hoped that the problem wasn't a time bomb waiting to go off, and that tonight would not be the night that we found out exactly what he was now capable of. Hang in there Jack.

March 21, 2002 Friday 10:58 PM

Subject: Arti, Maritza

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Worried

The evening was sufficiently awkward, business talk would only make it all worse, but we didn't come here for a work retreat. As Seaborne went on about how great a meal Ada put together while she threw out, "It was nothings," I took this opportunity to turn and ask our employer, "Do you have a phone I could use?"

This request brought the strangest smirk to his face, one that said he knew exactly what I planned on doing. For a moment I thought he'd be cruel enough to ignore me, but instead he mouthed, "Kitchen counter."I doubt Ada and Seaborne even noticed me, getting up to leave, which was fine with me. So I made my way back to the kitchen, finding the phone on the counter to my left, and I couldn't have gotten to it fast enough. Dialing his cell with lightening fingers, I almost gave a sigh, like he was a drug I'd been missing this entire time and this would somehow tide me over. It was unbearable listening to the phone just ringing away, and when I feared I'd be resigned to getting a hit out of his voicemail I felt way more pathetic than I already had before.

"Hello?" He sounded skeptical, probably because this number was blocked, and good for me because he'd know I wasn't in Sicily if it wasn't for that.

"Leon, babe?"

"Maritza. why are you calling from a blocked number?"

"No clue," I lied. "It's my aunt's phone so I know better than to ask questions."

"How's your grandmother?"

I looked around the kitchen like I was really

there; trying to believe my own act as though it would make it any less of a fabrication. "She's sleeping. Everyone is actually."

Sounding a bit more like he believed me he laughed, "What, no party for you?"

"Well, it's not about me. But trust me there's a feast for Rome in the refrigerator." And your ex-flame made it, I thought bitterly. I had to remind myself though that Leon didn't know Ada was even here, and she had no idea that I was seeing him… I didn't think.

"So, when am I going to get to plan a vacation over there?" he joked, but I knew that he was serious in a sense.

"When you're ready to be absorbed into my family. Because they would probably sucker you into being Leon Arti somehow." Maybe someday.

"Yeah, yeah. I got a flight to pack for. Call me tomorrow and kiss everyone for me. Tell them your boyfriend wants his ticket to Sicily."

Fighting the urge to get way too emotional, I said, "I love you Agent Scott Kennedy."

"I love you too babe. Bye."

Before we ended up saying goodbye for half an hour I hung up, almost melting into the wall in my happiness. I placed the phone back in its receiver, turning to leave, only to be stopped in my tracks at the sight of Ada standing in the doorway.

"Hi."

Her purr had disappeared, replaced by a face I wasn't sure she could make, and I wasn't sure if it was disappointment or betrayal that caused it. Did she feel "played" by Wesker? "You missed briefing."

"It's not meant for me anyway," I admitted, Hell, it was for Seaborne and more than likely I'd hear it tomorrow anyway since I'd apparently become his entourage.

"Oh." More awkward. "So you know Leon?"

"I lived across from Claire."

"You two became… friends." She tried to make it sound like a statement, but I heard the hope in her voice.

"Something like that."

With an awkward smile she looked around, pretending that she forgot what she'd come in for in the first place. "Wesker will show you and Seaborne to your rooms when you're ready. You're overnight bags are on their way."

"Thanks."

She nodded and began a slow walk back to the dining room, one that said she wanted the option to turn around and ask more questions, but instead she disappeared into the doorway. Leon was mine now, and she needed to accept it. Maybe I wasn't willing to get into a catfight over this man, but Ada didn't know that. She did know though that my loyalty to Wesker was unquestionable while she was merely a freelancer with no sure ties to anyone, and he would protect those worth their investment prices. He told me all about her and her risks in Raccoon City, but she had no idea who I was and what I had been willing to do in the past to become one of his most trusted. The day Wesker stopped caring about my feelings for Leon in all of this was the day I'd have to run, and so far that day was nowhere in sight.

March 22, 2002 Saturday 1:07 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: En route to Sylt, Germany

Status: Hung over

"Never again Jack!" My groans of pain could be mistaken for the sounds of a dying deer no doubt, and boy did I feel like I was dying. I never wanted to drink Absinthe again, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why I grabbed more vials of the Devil's Liquid. It lead to me acting like a complete fool, falling all over the floor and riding across Berlin with Stephanie to hit up a more conventional club where we were too out of it to even fit in. At one point I remember not being able to get up and being slid across the floor while holding onto Jack's leg, while Stephanie took over one of the go-go dancers shifts. Worst of all, I remember Stephanie dancing with me like a horny guy desperate for a hookup during last call, and at one point I willingly made out with her which led to a whole make-out session that lasted the entire ride to her hotel room while Jack sat in the corner of the cab embarrassed for both of us. Why the hell was I making out her? Oh yeah: lowered inhibitions, increased libido- all the classic signs of someone who is too drunk.

It didn't help that we had to wake up at six this morning just to be on time for our flight, and now on the train ride back I was still half asleep, half drunk, and depending on my shades to keep the sunlight from making my head explode all over the over travelers.

"Maybe you'll listen next time. I only told you to stop drinking sixty-eight times," Jack muttered. He gave a sigh of relief when the station was in sight, since now he'd be able to get some real rest. I may have kept him up all night with my rolling around on the floor, babbling and groaning without cause, but despite how annoying I got, he was there just in time to hold my hair when I was over the toilet bowl. He probably didn't want to be seen as that kind of person, the one to have your back or hold your purse but Jack was exactly that type of guy. Thank God for that.

The ride back to the house was quiet, probably for the best too, because there was no explaining away what happened last night. Jack paid the driver and we got out with him rolling both of our suitcases, and for some reason the driver didn't take off just yet. I pulled out my keys and headed straight for the front door, so ready to crash into my own bed and piss Al off by staying there all day long. I unlocked the top and bottom locks, ready to cross the threshold and breathe in the familiar scent of what had become our home.

"I'm baaaaack," I sang, attempting to run through the hallway, but I felt too shitty to reach the required speed for it to be considered "running." I passed through the empty kitchen, expecting to at least find someone in the den. Oh boy was I right. Jack was obviously not paying attention as he almost bumped into me, and I heard him muttering a few expletives but none managed to register in my mind. Dr. Seaborne was standing at the bottom of the stairway while Al made his way down,

"Hey." I hadn't seen Ada sitting on the loveseat, and I guess she didn't appreciate being missed. "Nice to see your upkeep is still going along."

My mouth was open, mainly because the last gynecologist I had was standing there, staring me down like I was his newest test subject. More than likely that was the case; why the hell else would he be here? Was it time?

"Claire!" Seaborne rushed over to me, extending his arm eagerly, but only out of politeness did I shake it.

"What's going on?" I asked stupidly, knowing full well that today was the start of the experimentation, and that this little vacation had lasted long enough.

Al walked over to us calmly, as if he had any other emotions that that, sardonic and angry. "Krauser would you mind taking Claire's things upstairs?" He must have nodded, because I only saw him heading up. "Dr. Seaborne is here to help up figure out what the result would be if we were to choose to procreate. Unless you changed your mind?" he asked, giving me the power in the situation.

Nervous as I was about this after the outcome of our last pregnancy, I nodded my head slowly at him. "I think it would be good to know what would happen in case…" I trailed off, for some reason fearing that finishing the sentence would end up somehow divulging way too much about our sex lives, but the creepy look on Seaborne's face told me that there would be a questionnaire about such things.

With a gleam in his eye the doctor professed, "Claire you and Dr. Wesker could usher in a whole new world."

My brow furrowed as I tried to figure out which emotion I wanted to stick with right now. Was it confusion, shock, or something else? I would go with confusion since I had no idea what the hell he meant by that. "What is he talking about Al?"My eyes landed on his shades, and I saw Seaborne excuse himself in my peripheral. I even saw Ada get to her feet and head off somewhere; hopefully they were actually out of earshot and not just pretending to be.

Al led me to the loveseat that Ada was previously occupying, speaking to me in his usual tone since he preferred not to baby me when such things were happening. I was grateful for that too, because I wasn't always logical and a firm voice reminded me that I needed to really think and not just react. "There is a clinic in Berlin. They have been working on making exogenesis a reality. They are in the phases of testing artificial wombs for use for human fetuses. Dr. Seaborne is here to help us determine if we could produce a child that would be…"

"Not a wild animal." I finished, not even thinking when I said it.

He did not correct me though, so it meant that he was at a loss for words on the subject of what he cut out of me. "You agreed that we should find out."

"I also pretty much agreed to growing a child to term and then terminating the pregnancy." I knew he wasn't looking at me right now; his eyes were either on the floor or on his gloves. "But Umbrella had so many test tubes and ways of growing things. Why is this so much more complicated?"

"We never grew human babies. And we never cared how B.O.W.S. would affect a human host if carried by one because it was not a possibility."

What do you want Claire? You're not even ready for a kid, and you haven't even entertained the idea of one so the decision was easy. I made that decision before. Could I stand being torn to shreds from the inside out again even with regenerative abilities? Could I stand to see the disappointment on Al's face again that he tried so hard to deny existed? My logical side knew that this was the best thing for us right now, and it was only a matter of time before I ovulated again and drove him over the edge with my damned hormones seeping all over the place.

"We have to," I whispered.

He looked back up to me before grabbing my hand, wordlessly telling me that he was sorry, and that this was necessary. Al didn't do things just because, and he didn't like his time being wasted, so I know that he had thought about this too. There could never be another tragedy like the one before, for both of our sakes. Because I was different though, maybe this time the result would be too, and maybe I'd be able to have that bundle just yet. I just wasn't too sure of Seaborne's intentions in all of this. When men like him spoke of new worlds things didn't always come out the way they envisioned. However, being a smart man one could only hope that his dreams didn't make him suddenly ignorant those of past. All it ever starts with is an idea, power, and a vision, and those very things have also led to quick ends.

A/N: I questioned making Ada react like that but since she deliberately disobeyed orders before when it came to Leon I figured she would indeed react this way if she were to find out there was absolutely no hope at this point of being with him. Gotta make her think even fantasies are off limits. Then again, she can fantasize about snitching, but then she'd have to snitch that she was in on it too. Anyway, I have a horrible sinus issue, it's all up in my brain and I feel like my body is floating away. I'm so fatigued I didn't have more time to proofread so review and maybe I'll feel better.


	27. Febris

A/N: "Febris," is Latin for "Fever." All right, finals are done so I have a little bit of freedom until my final semester. I had so many distractions but now that I've had my fill of Assassin's Creed, including a tattoo dedicated to it, and I'm taking a break from Batman Arkham Origins I can sit back and write a bit. Let's see if my ADD lets me O_O Glad to see I still get alert and subscription updates though, makes me feel good. Also I struggled with the end. I knew originally what I wanted but by then I couldn't figure out if I should continue that or not. Anyway, this chapter is about Claire questioning Wesker, and those questions will lead him to his own, muahahahaha!

littlevamp: No problem. Stephanie needed a cameo, I didn't give her enough time in the past and then she drops a bombshell and disappears. Red Lodge was important and I think I just dropped everyone too easily. Seaborne is creepy, but it's mainly because I believe all OBGYNs are. I guess they practice their gazes or something, and they all end up looking weird. And thank you, I'm all better!

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you, I hope you've been well :)

lollipop99: I'm glad you like it! I believe I sent you a message but I've been away so long :( It was implied it was Sergei just in case I didn't reply to you.

skidney: Thank you!

Haveyouseenmyghost: I know, I hate disappearing but my mind is always everywhere other than where it should be. When I say I even winged my finals, I'm telling you I winged them. I have no discipline.

vaticancameos: Thank you! I'm feeling a lot better though, and then I ended up sick again. It's the southern weather making my life miserable.

TanuSherry: I'm glad you love it, and your review is actually what made me go, "Damn, I need to update."

Optio

Chapter 27: Febris

March 23, 2002 Sunday 8:57 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Unsure

It felt odd that he was still in bed with me at this hour, especially since there was so much to be done concerning Dr. Seaborne and his research, but I think Al just stayed with me because he thought that I was afraid. He had no fucking clue. His presence did less to reassure than it did make me want to run for the hills, but since he was the only person I had I would accept his company. I mean, I had Jack but I think after the other day he had enough of me for a good three or four days. I'm sure he'd still be up to playing a game of cards or something in his spare time, unless today they would also be running tests to figure out why he looked like he was about to go Super Saiyan at the club. Not like they'd share their findings with me of course, not when I had so much on my plate already. I didn't really want to think about it though, and so I rubbed my thumb in a circle on Al's bare chest. Snuggling in closer to him, I felt him adjust himself to wrap an arm around me, but he only stared up at the ceiling, somehow ignoring my gaze. He was here, so it was the perfect time to even attempt to have this discussion right?

I didn't even know how to start this conversation though…

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he finally turned his neck to look at me.

"I think forcing myself into a good sleep schedule took a lot out of me, but I think in a couple more days I'll be fine." My mind still worked on how to ease into the conversation, but my mouth couldn't continue to make small talk just even though I ran the risk of running him off. "How are you? I mean are you guys doing any work today?" Subtle.

Al had to have known that I was interested in what was going on, but either he didn't want to burden me with the stress or he just thought it would be a good idea to keep me separated from the actual project. "Seaborne has his samples. I will more than likely need to travel to Berlin to oversee the research."

My brow furrowed. "What samples?"

As though I should've known, he replied, "Sperm and egg samples."

My face scrunched up in genuine confusion as I tried to remember any other time where I could've given him samples from me. I only saw him for a physical exam and when I passed out the last time I menstruated. "I don't remember him harvesting…" I answered my own question, and I gave a scoff. A part of me believed that I should have felt violated by him for stealing eggs from me, but then I remembered that only Al would have had interest in my uterus at that point. I didn't dwell on that revelation and instead let my mind wander to the possible results of this "project." If an actual baby came out of this then could we really just pull the plug and call it a day? What if I wanted it? What if it was like a 1 out of 3,000 chance and we were lucky enough for it to happen now? Could he soften to the possibility of us having a baby?

Or was there still a danger lurking that would capitalize on a moment of weakness? If Al was still running from someone or something then they would most certainly find out that I was carrying around a baby, and they would put two and two together…

_Slow down Claire, there isn't even a baby._

But was I so wrong to think about the future? Was I so wrong to paint the scenario in my mind? It wasn't unnatural for a woman to catch a bout of baby fever and run with it. In Red Lodge I was sure that I would never have a child, and now we were making sure if I could or could not. Maybe he was feeling it too; he could simply put me on birth control if he was so worried about us getting pregnant, but now he was running an undoubtedly expensive experiment to check if we could produce something normal. At that thought a tear almost welled up in one of my eyes, and I smiled to myself.

"What were your parents like?" The question surprised me even, but I knew I needed to get away from the subject of children because I was my own worst conversation buddy.

As he stared back at the ceiling I knew I had touched on an issue that was sensitive to him and Albert Wesker doesn't do sensitive. "They were parents." The simple statement made me realize that perhaps I should have instead inquired about his desire to have children. However, I needed to know more about the man I shared a bed with anyhow.

"Were they good parents?"

"They provided me with the necessities."

"Like food, clothes, shelter?" I prodded. "Love?"

"The definition of necessities varies amongst individuals."

Now I felt bed for even asking. Cliché as it sounded, his childhood sounded like it was far from perfect. Searching for a silver lining, I permitted my mouth to speak once more. "Well, they created a brilliant scientist. I guess things could have been worse." I left it as a statement, lest he be forced into asking his own questions that would further push his mood to the very end of the spectrum. For some reason though, I couldn't help but ask more about his family, maybe it was because he didn't choose to divulge more. "Are they still alive?"

Gaze fixed on the ceiling, he answered robotically, "I've never looked."

"So you went to college and never looked back? Just eighteen and free?" There was no point in raising my brow; he was so focused on not looking at me that he probably saw nothing in his peripheral.

"I received my MD at eighteen."

"You're making this conversation really hard to have." I broke; I couldn't take the one-liners anymore. It was killing me that I didn't know more about him while I was possibly wishing to have his babies.

As he shut his eyes he gave a small smirk and pulled me closer. "What conversation is that Claire?"

I almost slapped him on the chest, not that he'd feel too much, but it was amazing how men could get away with dodging questions. If the woman attempts to escape an interrogation though all hell breaks loose. So I stuck to my guns instead of backing away from the subject. "The one about how you grew up. I want to know."

His chest heaved as he inhaled deeply, and he left his eyes closed as he began. "My parents were from New York, born and raised. They were a wealthy family that believed in the power of knowledge. My studies were intense, but not difficult to pick up on, and I felt it was only natural to enter college. I would gain nothing from spending my young years acting as the child my mind refused to allow me to be."

"So was your dad like a big rocket engineer?" I turned onto my stomach and propped myself up on my elbows as a show of my interest, something that made him open his eyes.

"No," he breathed. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, giving me the feeling that my interest had not sparked his own.

"A doctor?"

In the same bewildered tone he replied, "No."

"Did he do anything? Did your mom do anything?"

Instead of a reply, I received absolute silence from him, an occurrence that frightened me beyond reason. He was usually a man of few words as made evident by his short answers, but the guy could monologue about himself for days.

With a nervous laugh I said, "Your genius had to come from somewhere Al."

His eyes showed that he was in deep thought as they moved from left to right, searching his mind for memories for the first time in what was probably decades.

"Could you at least tell me where your looks came from?"

An answer was expected, however, he seemed more confused than he ever had during the conversation.

"Al," I began, "You can't tell me you look nothing like your parents. I mean even if neither of them were blonde and blue-eyed you would know which grandparent gave it to you."

He appeared to be in a daze, like my words brought on things he never considered before, and maybe he hadn't if he left his parents so quickly. "I had no grandparents."

From this, I could only suggest that they were all dead, his parents were probably too busy for him and never bothered to tell him what they did to make their money. More than likely he never thought about them, he'd lived without them since he was eighteen, unless he was a kid in a dorm room. Perhaps the neglect that he felt was carried over, so now he would not tend to his memories of his family, and eventually they would be forgotten. My parents died when I was young but I would never forget that I looked like my dad and that my blue eyes were a gift from my Nana. I would never forget that my father was in the Air force which inspired Chris to chase the same dream, and I would never forget that I had my mother's nose. I would never forget where all these pieces came from that made me into Claire Redfield as a whole. But I was no genius, and in Al's mind who knows? More than likely he didn't deem this information important enough to remember.

The damage I had done became hard for me to even look at anymore, and I tucked my hair behind my ear as I pushed my body up to give him a peck on the lips. He was receptive to my kiss, pulling my body farther up so that we were chest to chest. If I'd known this was all it took to have this morning go smoothly, I would have just gone the route of physical intimacy earlier. I threw my head to the side to at least keep from tickling one side of his face with my hair, and to allow myself to be able to see him. Instead of letting me enjoy the view though, he began kissing me again, his hand wandering to my thigh to pull it up, further widening my legs. His grip was tightening as he crushed my chest to his, but it only made me want the inevitable more. There was only so close that he could pull us together, and it still would not compare to the feeling of him entering me. I knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn't stop himself from tugging at my panties, but damn it was taking too long today.

Gently, I began grinding my hips against his, trying to feel for a bulge, and in response he grabbed my ass to encourage me. We were too old for this dry humping business, but whatever it took to make him forget how I spoiled his morning was permitted. It was just surprising to me that he didn't want to at least get naked yet. I wouldn't rush him if he wanted to take his time, but I also wouldn't let him take all morning. Somehow I managed to pull away from him to sit up and remove my night shirt, anticipating the feel of his hands on my breasts. Ever full of surprises, they instead moved to my hips, the grip strong as he guided me to continue grinding. Pure torture was how I would describe the moment; he was ready, so was I, but he wouldn't give in to me. Before I knew what I was doing I had reached into his boxers and exposed his erection.

Right now I would have done anything to just have him inside of me, a desire that he seemed unwilling to fulfill at the moment. As I tried to pull my underwear to the side I felt him lean over, and he let me down next to him. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, another action that confused me, but I wondered if I was just being paranoid.

However as his body tensed it told me that I was not wrong in my assumption that he wouldn't give me what I wanted. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?" My attempt to not sound pleading was mildly successful, something I felt quite proud of. What woman wanted to sound like an animal in heat? At that thought I scoffed, smiling in disbelief that he was so ready to think that I was ovulating just because I wanted to have sex. I wanted sex other times and he never came to the conclusion that it was because of some weird clock in my body that told me to get knocked up. "I'm not ovulating Al!" I yelled, throwing myself on my back in annoyance. "My body temperature feels the same, I don't feel like I smell any different, and I haven't gained a single pound. And wouldn't I have ovulated last month for a quarterly cycle or some shit?"

The mattress shifted as he got to his feet, and my head snapped in his direction. He turned to start walking toward the bathroom. "I never said it would work that way. It could happen every four months. Every six months." Then he stopped and turned back. "Or… it could occur every month after your reproductive organs have adjusted to your current state."

"So we're just gonna pretend that condoms don't exist? Birth control?" To be taken more seriously in this argument, I pushed myself up into a sitting position.

"Testing birth control is a lengthy process. When you were with child a pregnancy test did not even reveal it to you. Your body has changed, it is still changing, and the chemicals you run on differ greatly from the average human. Birth control could pose a threat to your well being."

With an intentionally smartass tone I asked, "Like what?"

His eyes had widened slightly and he lowered his head. "Are you willing to find out?"

Without a verbal concession, I threw in the towel on that debate. There was probably a chance my eggs would be permanently scrambled if I chose to take a birth control for the average woman. "Well what about condoms?"

"If you find some with the adequate durability please inform me."

As he turned on his heel my mouth fell open at his insinuation. He knew damned well I couldn't argue with him there without hurling a false insult. At a loss for words I yelled to him, "This isn't fair!" At the sound of the shower starting I threw myself back into the mattress, huffing dramatically. I could always sneak into the shower but I didn't need to push my luck in case he became so dedicated to the cause that he bought a chastity belt. "He'd totally do it," I muttered to myself. This was going to be a long few days.

March 23, 2002 Sunday 11:18 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Bored

"Hey Jack." The kitchen seemed to be the blonde's favorite hangout, something which came as no surprise since he was the size of a school bus. Sadly, it seemed my abrupt decision to plop down in the chair next to him was disrupting his original delight in his sandwich. If he took such issue with events that happened days ago I could only imagine what stewing any longer would do to him. Since I was without company for the time being I knew that I had no choice but to swallow my pride and apologize to him. "Jack I'm sorry for how things went down in Berlin."

As he took a sip of what I assumed was a tall glass of Kool-Aid, I swear he almost rolled his eyes. Dramatically, he set the cup down and cleared his throat. Damn did he have to be such a diva about it? "I guess I can accept your apology."

"Good!" My enthusiasm wasn't really faked; it just seemed like a better idea in comparison to throwing sarcasm back at his attitude. "So, how's your arm?"

"It's not a problem I can't handle."

"Did they find out exactly what was wrong?"

"Nothing." He swallowed the last of his drink and got to his feet. I heard him wash the dishes as quickly as his could, -more than likely only because I was sitting there- and he stared at me for a moment. "Is that experiment thing going on?"

"I guess." My tone showed that I was just as clueless as he was even though some part of me was hugely involved.

"They didn't shoot you up with some hormones or something?"

The sound of confusion was audible in my voice as I attempted to both answer his question and question it in my head. "No."

With a shrug, he crossed his arms. "You just… Something's different."

Before I ended up spilling my guts to him about how Al refused to screw me based on his own belief that something was "different," I stood up from the table, ready to leave, however, if I did so on that note he would probably get revenge on me by following me around asking questions. "Everything's… normal. Everything's fine." With my arms crossed, I stared down at the floor, not a move that would help my case.

"I don't think everything's fine." His counter seemed to bring him some form of satisfaction. He was definitely the kind of douche that loved to get under your skin even when he had no clue what the hell he was talking about.

"Well," I began with my arms outstretched, "you weren't hired… to do that!" If it came off as an insult I hoped he wouldn't take it too harshly. How else could I get him to stop speaking the truth that I didn't want to hear? I didn't want to think about this right now when an experiment involving the viability of a baby was happening. At first I did, but after this morning I felt I had only dug a hole for myself. The thought of me pushing away Al just because my body was ironically enough acting as a magnet to him hurt me. It made me want him more just because at the time my presence was driving him insane on the inside. In my head I knew what I planned to do wasn't the best idea, but I would show him that this wasn't going to be an issue between us.

"Well all right crazy lady." As Jack brushed past me I could've sworn that my stomach turned a little, although I wasn't too sure why. He hadn't really pissed me off, just gotten on my nerves, and it definitely wasn't any help that he dismissed me _and _got in the last word. He could have that moment though; it was best that my mouth be kept shut.

March 23, 2002 Sunday 9:57 PM

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Berlin, Germany

Status: Fine

Today's events had been stressful to say the least, although it was nothing that I could not handle. My morning started with Claire asking questions that for some reason I could not answer myself. Nothing prompted me to question my youth before, however, her constant inquiries seemed to bother me. This was not the time for these thoughts, but her plan to take the conversation as far away from our own issue as possible caused me to question my own life. The experiment was far more important at the moment, and Seaborne's enthusiasm more than proved that.

"I would like to congratulate you Dr. Wesker," he turned in his chair to look at me, eyes wide with excitement, not for Claire and myself, but for the possibility of this leading to his own desires. "You are _potentially_ a father."

Silence was my response to his statement, although I felt no regret I did feel something akin to resentment that was aimed at his will to take part in this. Perhaps it would have been best to never find out, but Claire needed to know as a woman. As partners, we needed to know. She had to have known that there were few things I would not do for her, yet more than likely she assumed that giving her a child would be one of them. Given our current situation we did not need a child but who was I to deny her the hope of someday "fulfilling" her life?

Despite not replying, Seaborne continued to inform me of his findings, his face now lacking that same joy he showed before. "I think we both know that this gestation cannot possibly mimic one that Claire would endure; her metabolism, according to you, shoots beyond that of a normal human's when she is wounded. A pregnancy would be seen by her body as something that is hindering her, and to support the life her metabolic system would act the way a human woman's _attempts _to react."

"The nuclear meltdown…" I began, trailing off to imagine how far Claire would be pushed and her ability to excel where a human would fail.

"That occurs in the middle of the pregnancy," the scientist continued for me. "Here we can simulate the womb of a human woman, even one with an extremely high metabolic rate, but we cannot assume to know how Claire would react."

My head snapped in his direction before he took the conversation any further, "Dr. Seaborne this is an experiment to test the viability of a fetus, nothing more."

Suddenly his demeanor became grave as he turned his chair so that he would completely face me, a movement I did not reciprocate. "On a cellular level, it is dividing rapidly."

Obviously he had not finished in his review, something that caused me to feel as though I was off today; I should have known everything that would leave his mouth by now. "How rapid?"

"Twice. Claire would deliver whatever this many end up as, as early as four months into gestation, fully developed. According to you she can heal instantly from a wound, days from viral or bacterial infection, but this being would be half of both of you and I fear that there is a chance that her body would struggle with the option to protect a pregnancy or terminate it. However, I truly believe that she would carry this child to its term, but if her body perceives it as a threat the term would be rushed. As soon as development would be complete, the child would have to come. This would all depend on Claire. There are too many possibilities."

Though I was not an optimist I asked, "Best case scenario?"

His mood lightened slightly once he was given room for hope. "The best case scenario I can offer is that Claire's body will accept a pregnancy, and her metabolism spikes may help her. If her body begins to break down from expending so much energy she will tap into her reserves, and a pregnancy will last much shorter than four or five months. Metabolism is key in pregnancies. She is able to provide a large amount of energy, and genetics are unpredictable… There is a chance of this offspring possessing your traits, and another could drain her just as much as a regular pregnancy if it has traits of Aceso and she is unable to eat enough to compensate."

Nodding to myself, I exhaled sharply.

"Dr. Wesker?" he asked. "This gestation must proceed at least until the equivalent of a human fetus at 16 weeks. Major, physical anomalies will be noticeable by then. We will also be able to determine any other underlying issues."

Staring at the ceiling, I cupped my cheek in my hand, attempting not to sound so sentimental over something that merely displayed potential. "Sixteen weeks."

"Only two months by my count," he chimed, reminding me that this would not take as long as many thought. If he was correct in his estimation then it would in fact only take two months rather than four.

"No more than eight weeks Seaborne."

His grin reappeared, the cogs in his head loud enough for me to guess that he thinking of other ways to delay termination in the future. I did not desire to kill him when he showed such loyalty to me, but there was a chance that it could be re-gifted to his very own baby. Many of my creations have fallen into the hands of others, but this was something I would not merely allow the US Government to cart off. When I declared my devotion to this, I believe they were only half-listening, but no one wanted to endure the consequences if they were to attempt taking this from me.

A/N: Forgive any half-assed science because though people in my major's field argue it is a science, it simply is not. Otherwise I would've had more than one Physiology class. So my understanding of these things is small. I feel now though, I should've majored in Biology… If anything is confusing to read it's because I was half asleep in some parts. I've been trying to go back. I intended a little sexiness at the end but I guess I can pick that up next chapter. It's taken me too long to write this.


	28. Chemia

A/N: Go to my profile and vote on a poll pertaining to a future matter in this story. Vote, vote, vote. Review too. "Chemia is Latin for "chemistry," of course it's a modern word because back then there was no word. See, I didn't forget Optio!

Optio

Chapter 28: Chemia

March 31, 2002 Sunday 1:46 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Fine

I'd waited for him to return, not to give me the news of his progress, but for more selfish reasons. I couldn't stop thinking about him ever since he ran off to play Frankenstein with Seaborne and my stolen eggs. I couldn't stop thinking about how quickly he shut down our conversation about his family, but not because his family interested me so much that my nights were sleepless. It was weighing heavily on me because I couldn't get the image of a fat, little baby out of my head. A baby with his eyes, blue, paler than mine. A baby with hair dark and red-tinged. Ever since that day he denied me the opportunity to give him a proper send-off I couldn't stop painting a picture of that pale-eyed, dark-haired, fat, baby boy.

A little boy would look like me, he would have a subtle dash of his father, almost like it was a secret to the world who sired him. And it would be. It would be the biggest secret in the world, even more of a secret than his father's location. But we weren't supposed to have a baby; we weren't supposed to birth a child into this world. We were supposed to test a theory all for the sake of me being able to say, "Yes, I can." This theory being tested was a method to appease me. Theories would never do me any good when and if proven; they'd be discarded. Better yet, would he plaque the findings? Would I be handed a manila folder with a few pages of data that he would explain for me in two words. There were two phrases, each involved two words: we can, or we can't.

As I waited in the darkness, playing with a golden rose, I smiled to myself. There was something that Al didn't know, something that I knew from the tingling in my abdomen: we could. It wasn't scientifically tested and proven; it was something that was just a known, something that I felt. Al was wrong about something else too: I wasn't some sex-crazed bimbo. There was nothing wrong with a woman realizing what she wanted and what I wanted was a baby.

Simple.

So I waited, sitting in the dining room in silence, and as I thought of Al's return I dropped a hand to my stomach, my smile growing so wide that my cheeks began to hurt, forcing me to purse my lips. My only complaint right now was how long he was taking to walk through that door. His patience may have been a virtue in his field of work; scientists waited for things to happen. That wasn't me. I wanted to _make_ things happen.

That though took me back to Red Lodge. I'd never asked Al how long he'd wanted me, when he realized that I was more than just some stupid kid making a stupid decision over a promise from a known-traitor. I knew it was before the dinner with the Luomas, but it was impossible to figure out exactly when. All of these thoughts weren't my usual ones, they weren't me but at the same time it felt like it was. How could I have changed so much?

S_tupid question._

Al did this. I was now concerned with kitchen appliances, the garden I never wanted responsibility for, dinner, and Goddammit laundry. I was his, I was his woman, and I wanted more out of life than a fake last name that sounded an awful lot like his. At the sound of the locks turning I knew it was him, and I fought the urge to rush to the foyer to greet him. With trembling finger I placed the rose back into the vase, my apprehension born from the fear that he'd reject my proposals. I told myself to play it cool, to play it sexy, but that usually led to awkward moments where I made myself look like some silly amateur. His footsteps grew louder, as did the beat of my heart, but as he drew nearer something chemical began to stir inside of me. I was being led by this biological compulsion. With each step my worries faded away, my anxiety was disappearing, and the robe that I wore was becoming a nuisance. I stood around the corner waiting for him to step into the den, waiting to ambush him.

Tonight I was prepared to beg, to perform whatever favor he requested, to make any commitment he required as long as he made one in return: to become a father. This life was lonely for both of us sometimes, it was even dangerous, but the level of trust and fait that had been built would have to count for something. I would never let anything happen to any piece of Al; I would be better at staying home, quelling any desire to make contact with the outside world. If he gave me this then Chris didn't matter anymore, Leon didn't matter anymore, and everything would be about us and the baby. We would have a baby!

Suddenly my glee abated; it was time. Despite his ability to see in the dark he would have missed me and continued to head to the basement, not wanting to wake me. _Very much _awake, I stepped out of the dining room, seemingly catching him off guard.

Nothing was in his hands, but I could sense that much was weighing heavily on that mind of his, "Why aren't you in bed?"

I scoffed at that question; tonight was one of those nights where he wanted to dismiss me, and I knew it was because he felt I retained too much immaturity. I learned to toughen up though when he insinuated such a thing' it wasn't personal, well it wasn't meant to hunt me at least. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Still dismissive, he responded with, "It's too early to speak with certainty."

"That's just it though." My best fame plan was to remain calm, keep my hands to myself during the conversation; and I had almost broken my own first rule. I needed to focus but my mindset was rapidly becoming muddled as a more physical need became stronger. For some reason rationality was nothing but an impossibly task, and what felt more conducive was action. As I fought with myself I closed the space between us, placing my hands on his chest. "Al, I _know_."

My eyes had adjusted to the dark well enough to spot the movement of his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"We can have a baby. I can feel it. My body is telling me that I can." Though I wasn't sure I could sense that he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and I didn't blame him if he was. I know it sounded crazy, but I just knew. To be taken a bit more seriously I lowered my hands, hoping that it made me seem like a more stable person rather than a crazy woman. Yet even with that bit of logic that I demonstrated my body forced me to take those two metaphorical steps back. It was like I couldn't stop myself from pulling the belt of my robe. The silk practically fell off of my body, exposing me, and all I could say was, "I want one."

An ache in my loins had commenced, and at that same moment I saw the red of his eyes disappear as he shut them. Was he shuddering like I was, was he experiencing the same caliber of arousal as me?

"Claire," he groaned, the bass in his voice like a rumble of thunder. Just when I thought this signaled an opening for me, he leaned down to scoop up the robe, draping it over my shoulders. "Go to bed." His command was given begrudgingly, and in a show of great mental strength he leaned in and kissed my forehead. This chaste action made me feel miniscule, but my desire only grew.

Before he could walk away from me I shrugged off the robe for what I hoped would be the final time, catching him by his belt when he attempted to turn to leave me. "Al," I pled, the amount of desperation in my voice catching him off guard, "You feel it to?" I knew he could feel the same ache as I did; I remembered that night in Mayo, the night he broke his own vow to never touch me again. He was like a man possessed, sneaking into my room while I slept. and this revelation was my proof that right now he couldn't resist me. "I know you feel it. You felt it in Mayo. You were never supposed to have me again but you snuck into my room, you tasted me, you _fucked_ me like never before." At this point I was gloating over his inability to control himself. "You have nerves of steel," I teased, my hands working to unsecure leather and metal, "but this is chemical, biology, and you as a scientist know what that means."

Like a statue he stood there, and like a statue he _couldn't_ speak. Speaking would mean confirming _my_ theory, speaking would mean breaking that concentration he was working so hard to sustain, speaking would mean him fumbling over the words, "Claire, stop." So while his pride was sitting on the table, the option of whether or not to stutter torturing him, I unzipped his pants. It would be just as I had said.

_Chemistry._

Jaw taut, eyes burning with both anger and passion, he lifted me up, gripping my ass as I wrapped my legs around his waist. His mouth crashed into my own, as he tried to gain some balance to enter me, he slammed me into the wall. My scream of pain was silenced by his mouth, all forgotten when he finally penetrated me.

Something about this felt different, more intense, and dare I admit better. It no longer mattered whether or not we kissed; the main purpose now was to muffle out moans, but we were both just too loud. Then he stumbled into the dining room, still holding me up, and he lowered me onto the table.

My back was already dampening with sweat, my skin now catching the table, his strokes causing me to bounce back and forth, and I stopped caring about us being heard. There were moans, expletives, the table creaked beneath us, and before I knew what I was saying I had moaned out, "Ah, give me a baby Al."

His strokes ceased instantly, and he let out a sharp sigh. Disappointment fell over me like a dark cloud, and I sat up as I saw him trying to safely tuck his erection back into his pants. My heart fell from my chest, a lump had formed in my throat, and tears sprung to my eyes when he turned away to leave. Even worse, he gathered my robe once more and draped it over my shoulders for what I definitely knew was for the last time tonight.

With his final words he sounded more disappointed than I felt, something that hurt my feelings. "Goodnight Claire."

April 2, 2002 Tuesday 10:00 AM

Subject: Krauser, Jack

Location: Berlin, Germany

Status: Fine

These back-and-forths were becoming a pain in the ass but it's not like I could tell the boss that. I tried to think of it this way though: being a good, little solder boy had gotten me a discharge and a useless arm, but turning over to Wesker's side got me… something strange and frankly frightening. Despite my wariness about my current condition though I was grateful that I could once more call myself a soldier of any kind, and I also could use my arm again. Sometimes it tingled, pulsed it felt like, but I'd be a liar to say I would do things differently. So I'd go between Sylt, Berlin, hell even the Antarctic if I was asked, but make no mistake I'd complain about it. Right now I was being annoyed by something else though: what seemed like five miles of guards, security protocol, and elevators. Wesker trusted me so much that I was temporarily released from my post to guard Claire so that I could go check on Seaborne and their progress. Although it couldn't have been that much development in a few days I merely hypothesized that Wesker didn't trust the creepy doc not to fuck him over. Honestly I couldn't imagine a little Wesker/Claire spawn running around; what I heard about her and the fuss she had created simply by interfering in the Rockfort incident proved to me that she was a hellcat that managed to make her one decision reverberate louder throughout history than most. It didn't help her case that I had witnessed her drunk off of her ass, running amuck throughout Germany, giving many Europeans a run for their money.

In Wesker's case, no explanation was needed. He was the most wanted man in the world, and I don't think that Osama had shit on him. Because the things my boss did were covered up despite there being a crater in the place of a huge fucking city, I say he won. The man had evidence a _city_ wide, _literally_, but because the American Government was up to as much good as the schizoids suspected, no one was the wiser as to what went on in the company that made their compacts, makeup, soap, prescription drugs, and the list went on. They had been basically given the answer but they completely ignored it thanks to the mention of "zombies" and "bio-organic weapons." Good job boss. Even had me fooled.

The farther we walked into the building, the whiter everything got, and the more the place looked like a spaceship. I had a feeling what this facility dabbled in, but I didn't even want to think it. All would say is: it definitely was a facility devoted to birthing different things. We reached a room where I was forced to disrobe before a decontamination shower nearly scared me into a heart attack. The mist left me cold and damp, but I was immediately fitted into some white scrubs and some weird sneakers meant for doctors. They wanted no trace of the outside on me obviously, and I guess when we were dealing with something so sensitive it was for the better.

"You go through this every day?" My question was ignored by the armed guards that were so generic that they were almost identical. Clean shaven, wide jaws, straight noses, thin lips, army fatigues, and not a hair peeking from beneath their caps. They were toy soldiers in every sense, meant as nothing more than meat shields for the overpowered nerds that worked here and finally got a whiff of what it was to be seen as a top dog in a world where so far brute strength and puny brains were winning out. In a way I felt bad for them because if you weren't standing right next to men like Albert Wesker you were as good as dead. They weren't even in the same room as Seaborne. They were expendable.

Still silent, they point me through one last automatic, sliding door. The bare, white rooms were all behind me now, and now we stood before steel door barely discernible from the walls were of the same material. For a moment we just stood there, and finally I realized that I was meant to enter. What, did these guys have no tongues?

As I approached a red laser scanned over my body, a female voice drifted to me that I couldn't pinpoint coming from an exact location. It was everywhere around me. "Jack Krauser." This identification method was obviously state of the art as it was correct in identifying me, and I had been moving and blinking all the while. The doors slid open, only wide enough for two bodies to pass through side by side, and I was wider than most. As soon as I crossed the threshold the doors slid closed behind me, this new room cold, steel, exactly how a lab is pictured by the general population. There were tables on the left side of this room that was the size of a medium-sized building, all lined up with the layout of a school science lab, and that gave some order to what still looked like a clutter. Microscopes, vials, burners, and a few sinks occupied the tables, along with a few notepads here and there. The right side of the held another room that looked more like a booth, and I guessed that was used for safe monitoring. There was no need to ask what was being monitored though; the middle of the room was occupied with a lit row of pods, all filled completely with an orange liquid that was visible from the top of them. The sides of the pods were paneled with black, maybe to mirror the darkness of a womb a bit better, but all of this science might as well have been sorcery to me.

Curiosity was getting the better of me though as I attempted to count just how many pods were in that one row that stretched all the way to the back of the room, but for now I was guessing 30 maybe. I thought Wesker and Claire were only making one baby as an experiment that would be terminated? Why were there so many pods here? Before I flew off the handle at the sight of Seaborne, I took a deep breath and told myself that Wesker had visited here before. This was a facility devoted to Exogenesis, and it would have been foolish of me to suspect there would only be one pod per room. Still, it nagged me that as far as I could tell, every pod was filled with that orange liquid. My loyalty just would let it go, and next thing I knew my feet were being led forward, my steps soundless against the steel floor. The only noise was the sound of the air conditioning and the fabric of my scrubs when I took one more step.

"Mr. Krauser!"

Like I was caught, I quickly stood at attention, adrenaline coursing through me when I spotted Seaborne standing at the door of the booth with a smile on his long face.

He ushered for me to enter, still enthusiastic, even when my walk gave off a sense of apprehension. The only scientist that I trusted was Wesker and by default his late colleague Dr. William Birkin. The skinny doctor disappeared into the booth, but he was still visible through the glass screen at the front, and I saw him looking down at something. Figuring that I needed to get this visit over with, I pulled my mental strength together and headed for the booth, stepping up and over the threshold. It felt even colder inside if that was even possible, the lightening was almost non-existent, and there was a control panel that made this look more like a cockpit than anything. Buttons, green and red lights, levers, and monitors were laid before us, and Seaborne had to gesture for me to take a seat in the chair next to him to bring me back from thoughts of Sci-Fi movies.

Seaborne was looking at the largest monitor in the middle of the panel, his smile widening so much that for a moment I thought his goddamned face would crack from the strain that had to be going into it. A long, bony finger tapped a button on the keyboard in front of him a few times, gently, as though it'd break. It took a while for me to notice that he was zooming in on whatever the monitor was used to watch. With a few more taps I began to see what I could only identify because of high school text books. It was stationary, snug in what must have been the bottom of the first pod.

My grimace must have prompted Seaborne to defend his little science project, because he suddenly boasted loudly, "Day 10, halfway into the second week and it already has eyes, limbs, and a heart!"

It looked like a crude little creation to me, something a kid would clump together, but I didn't doubt its authenticity. That was exactly how those things looked. "I'm guessing you're pro-life," I muttered, trying to make out these limbs he spoke so proudly of.

"This is not political Mr. Krauser," he replied, his eyes scanning the side of my face in hopes of getting to me look at him and give him some facial reaction. "Of course I would like to see this to term, but this is Dr. Wesker's project."

Fighting the urge to leer at him, I continued to stare at the embryo, nothing but a possibility right now, never meant to be a promise based on the agreement I'd heard. "It's Claire Redfield's potential _baby_." Once I registered how firmly that sentence came out, I looked to Seaborne almost apologetically, but in my defense I knew that Claire wanted this even when she wasn't trying to trick her partner into impregnating her. I could see it in her face when I spoke to her yesterday. It was killing her to pretend that she didn't want any piece of normalcy, and it was killing her being left alone most of the time with no one or nothing to love.

I suggested a pet, but I don't think Wesker's a dog person per se.

Matching my previous tone he came back with, "Is it not half of Dr. Wesker as well?"

With a smirk I leaned back into the chair, crossing my arms over my chest, giving a scoff meant to display a mood meant for no fuckery right now. "You and I both know a patriarchal society is ideal Doc, but these women own our kids. We don't even fight it anymore, you noticed that? We're nothing more than donors to them. The kids get a house, food, our name, but that kid is gonna be the woman's. You really think Wesker would take time out of his schedule to take Alby Jr. out to the park to play on the swings, teach him how to play catch, tell him to brush off that bully? No. If that ever happens it'll be Claire Redfield's baby. Claire is gonna be breastfeeding that kid.

Claire is gonna be rubbing ointment on his scraped knee. Claire is gonna be struggling to get grass stains out of his jeans. Claire is gonna teach that kid the basic skills to survive as a young child in the world, and I guarantee Claire will be the one to tell that kid to knock that fat, bully the fuck out and leave him on the sidewalk bleeding. This is what will happen. Wesker isn't doing this for him; he's doing this for Claire. _He _is giving _Claire_ the hope for a baby, not the other way around." With a single laugh I then added, "Now I'd like to see you try to tell Claire -or Wesker for that matter- otherwise."

With his smile completely gone, he quickly stated, "It doesn't matter anyway. Two months will go down the drain. Dr. Wesker doesn't even seem to care that another pregnancy won't necessarily mimic the first. We would need multiple test runs to establish reliability and percentages."

Seaborne's tone told me that he was holding out hope that Wesker would change his mind about terminating the pregnancy, and honestly, I believe he expected this. To top things off if I was being frank with anyone who questioned this whole thing then I'd have to say that I expected it too.

April 2, 2002 Tuesday 11:05 AM

Subject: Krauser, Jack

Location: Berlin, Germany

Status: Fine

After Seaborne purposely threw out confusing jargon for over half an hour as an appropriate act of revenge to insult my intelligence I was allowed to leave the lab, given back my clothes, and one of the creepily quiet guards told me to help myself to their "impressive snack room" in the voice and tone of an automated host. Strangely though, as I walked down the hallway I could see that the snack room wasn't as bland as the rest of the building was. From what I could see the walls were a deep blue, an abstract piece was strung above a green couch, and I could see part of a potted tree peeking from behind the wall. Of course I wasn't going in there for the scenery or even to pass the time to get back to Sylt; I was a big man, and I was starving. Once I crossed over the threshold I saw a round, yellow table large enough to comfortably accommodate six occupants, a red table was at the other end and about the same size. A 50' flat screen hung from the wall on the far end, a long, black leather couch stationed in front of it. Towards the back of the room there was a kitchen area complete with a sink, oven, electric stovetop, refrigerator, coffee and espresso machines, and a microwave. Closer to the TV I saw a woman standing at one of the six vending machines, talking on the phone as she stewed over what kind of premade Frappuccino to get.

Not wanting to actually have to make something, I decided to head over to the vending machines, passing up the one that you saw in every hallway at a college and heading over to the more interesting two. One had German writing on the top, proclaiming to have the essentials for a meal. Through the display glass I saw wrapped sausages, eggs in a carton, milk in a jar, wrapped cheese, and some kind of packaged meat that was still soaking in blood. Like I said, I didn't want to cook. The next machine was red and yellow, its sticker saying, "Pizza Time." There were three parts to this vending machine, the first showed you a part of the inner workings, the middle was for selection and payment, and the third piece was where you were informed to wait two and a half minutes before being deposited your pizza.

Fuck. Yes.

For about ten bucks this was the best thing ever. I inserted my money, selecting only cheese as a topping since I wasn't even too sure how this would taste. The machine whirred up, flour being mixed and prepped, but I wasn't too interested in the mechanisms that went into it; I just wanted my damned pizza. The woman had figured out what she wanted, and as I waited I took a look at the drink machines, seeing there was also a normal drink machine along with another that seemed to contain different alcoholic beverages. Seaborne really did have a reason to think he was better than me goddamn him.

The woman was becoming a bit whiny with whoever she was on the phone with, probably a boyfriend. The hot chicks usually were fucking nuts, a fact I learned from being around Claire so much. They'd show you why they got a boyfriend, and then they'd show you why they can't ever hang on to them. This woman was definitely smoking though. Long, dark hair, short in stature, tiny and toned, olive-colored skin, and a nice, fake rack to boot. For a moment I considered stealing her away from her boyfriend issues.

She sat at the red table behind the couch, now ignoring that Frappuccino that she took forever to decide on. "Fine. No it's just been stressful; it was this bad when my nonno got sick too. Even my abuela is gone so this is the end of a generation for both of my parents."

Well, Latin and Italian. Someone was definitely losing their girlfriend today. I looked around to make sure no one else was coming, because that pizza cost too much to be stolen from under me, and as hungry as I was not even a romp in the janitor's closet with this chick was worth losing that over.

The frown had become a small sweet smile and she moved to play with the rim of her drink. "I love you too Agent Scott Kennedy."

I'd bumped into the couch. Leon? Leon?!

Her small thumb went to hit the end button, her smile conveying that everything was now all right. Too bad she had just piqued my interest in the worst way.

As I neared the table I pulled the knife from my pants' pocket, folding my arms so that the hand the knife rested in was clearly visible. "Who were you talking to?"

The woman took a sip of her Frappuccino, refusing to look at me. "None of your business."

Her defiance was angering me, and all I could think was that Leon had found out about what Wesker was up to. Did he tell the US Government? Was this woman here to put an end to the experiment? "Miss," I began, tapping the knife against my arm to get her attention.

Hazel eyes darted in my direction, a scowl ready, but as soon as she spotted the knife she looked oddly shocked. If she were innocent she would have been terrified, not fucking shocked. Suddenly, her gaze once more became defiant, a clicking sound coming from her lap.

Fuck.

When my eyes wandered to the tiny, little gun in her lap, a cocky smile spread across her face, and it was well-deserved.

"Who do you work for?" Though I was in no position to demand answers I figured what was the harm when she could do whatever she wanted?

"None of your business," she repeated.

"If you know Leon Scott Kennedy then I'm afraid it _is_ my business." Sweat was accumulating beneath my shirt, but I didn't care as long as it didn't show on the outside.

Her eyes widened at the mention of his name. "How do you know Leon?"

In a show of pettiness I growled, "None of your business."Arms still folded, composure maintained, my grip tightened on the handle. "Who do you work for?"

"You first-"

"Ladies first-"

"If you knew who I worked for you'd be shitting yourself and fumbling over an apology."

"Yeah? Cause if you knew who I worked for you'd be realizing you're a fucking idiot to think that you could shoot me in _this_ facility and make it to see supper." A mouth would get her nothing but self-provided distractions and a knife through it. I would wait for the moment she let her full rage show before attacking, unless I wanted to be shot in the thigh. At the thought of her being a real threat my arm began to pulse, the muscles in spasm just beneath my skin. She definitely didn't want to be hit with that.

Her mouth became a pout, emotions boiling so hot that it was showing in the red undertone she suddenly developed. "If you don't drop a name, I_ will_ drop _you_."

"Then you don't know me, and you don't know Wesker."

In a flash her face went from angry, to what I recognized as ashamed. The gun disappeared from view, and she took her gaze off of me for the first time since she saw my knife. "Sit down."

"What?" I wanted to scream, but that would have meant alerting the tin soldiers to the incident.

"Sit down; we work for the same person."

The machine dinged behind me. This would've been so much easier had I just been able to kill her. Reluctantly, I put my knife away and took a seat on the other side of the table.

Once I was settled in she took her cup into her hands, struggling to look at me out of embarrassment. "How do you know Leon?"

The question was unexpected; we'd just found out that we both worked for the most wanted man in the world so why the hell did she give a fig's ass about how I knew Leon? "A better question is: if you work for Wesker then how do you know Leon?" I'd keep it simple, because I really wanted to know who she was double crossing here. Leon or Wesker?

"I don't know if you have the proper clearance for that information."

"Being his woman's bodyguard isn't as sacred as I was led on then?" No names. For all I knew she could've been looking for Claire to take her back to Denver.

When her brow furrowed again, I couldn't help but realize how cute she was when she was confused. "You know Claire?"

"Better every day."

Humming from the vending machines became the only sound I heard as she sipped her Frappuccino in thought.

"How do you know Claire?" The pulsing in my arm dissipated, leaving me with nothing but a dull throb, merely a reminder of how close this woman had come to losing her life.

Swallowing, she looked back up to me, her expression still pensive. "I don't know if you have the proper clearance for that information."

A sigh was all I could give her that wouldn't offend. "Names," I offered. "We'll start with names."

Her black hair shook back and forth as she nodded enthusiastically in agreement, but I didn't expect her to go first. One of us had to demonstrate a show of trust or at least cooperation so we could figure out what was going on. Calling Wesker would seem like a logical idea, but if she was lying then it could endanger what he was working on here.

"I'm Jack Krauser. Real name." With a single nod I signaled for her to go next.

Before speaking she bit her lip, the muscles in her jaw tightening as she prepared to commit what could've been treason if I was an enemy. "Maritza Arti. Real name."

"All right, we're getting somewhere."

Our conversation seemed to go on and on, yet we got nowhere. Maritza wasn't telling me how she knew Claire, why she knew her, and she definitely wasn't telling me why she was telling Leon she loved him. I was ex-military, she was just a woman looking for big payouts, and in some way she wound up in the business of being what essentially was a professional lookout. Other than that we were just going in circles. Somewhere in that conversation though, a name came up that I had heard before. "Ada Wong? She's in this?"

Playing with her now-empty cup Maritza's interest was reignited. "Yeah who is she?"

Rather than play games or offer up information in exchange I decided to play nicely. "A spy apparently. She was wrapped up in the Raccoon City incident with Leon. From his story about her there was never a clear answer as to who she worked for. One minute she's looking for some reporter or journalist. Vultures all of 'em anyway," I spat. "Then she was looking for her boyfriend John, then G's creator's wife."

Her eyes fell, nervousness showing in her movements. "I don't trust her."

"Why's that?"

Her tongue peeked out from the corner of her mouth, lips pursing as she considered her next statement. "Because she doesn't trust me. You confirmed that. She heard me on the phone with Leon and ever since then she's been acting like I killed her dog."

Without the intention of raining on her parade I leaned in and said, "He spoke fondly of her." There was no point in lying about it, especially when we were both trying to get to the truth about this woman.

Maritza swallowed down the lump in her throat that must have been jealousy, or maybe it was just her being territorial. "I wasn't even supposed to meet Leon. It just happened. I was a distraction meant to keep everyone away from Claire's place. I was just supposed to make sure that no one came looking for them." For a moment I thought the shocked expression on her face was due to her divulging too much, but she quickly began begging me, "Please don't tell Claire I'm here! Don't tell her I work for Wesker! I really do care about him and I don't want Claire to think I'm using him! Please!"

"You've told me plenty," I assured her. "I trust you, but I think there's only one person we need to worry about right now." Ada Wong, who are you and just who do you work for?

April 3, 2002 Wednesday 1:05 PM

Subject: Krauser, Jack

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Fine

All morning I had been thinking back to my little study session with Maritza; somehow we managed to pull up a little information on the elusive spy Ada Wong. That's exactly what I didn't like about her: she was a spy. She worked for money plain and simple. Loyalty was nothing to her but a useless value that she would fake for the sake of a fat check.

Speak of the devil.

Red. Asian. Cocky walk. That was all I needed to figure out that the woman walking towards me was Ada Wong. A dainty hand swept back her shorthair, the heels of her boots meeting noisily with the wood beneath her step, and a red blouse that looked more expensive than my entire wardrobe. Nothing about this woman spelled out that she was trustworthy, no expression on her face that even registered as neutral. She was on her own side, and she would never allow anyone on it.

Her catlike walk came to a stop once she was within three feet of me, one hand meeting her waist as she took a modelesque pose. "Hi there. I need to see Wesker," she purred.

"No one's allowed in," I replied, keeping my stance as a soldier at the basement door.

"I'm sure he won't mind." Seductive was an understatement of what her tone came off as, but serious it was not.

"I mind." Rather than play with her head I felt it best to let her know that I knew what she was up to. "I don't trust you Ms. Wong. Or whatever your real name is."

Rolling her eyes, she shifted her weight to her other hip. "It doesn't matter."

As she took a step forward so did I, the unexpected move causing her to jump back slightly. "It does matter. I've seen your _resume_, your high-profile assassinations, and thefts from the CDC that still haven't been noticed."

The smirk that she now presented was an admirable attempt to exhibit apathy, but I knew she cared that I had managed to get some information on her.

"You're freelance," I continued, "and I don't respect that. I don't trust that." I would've respected her had she just been attempting to build her own empire or league of spies or whatever. She was just a traitor.

A single laugh came from her throat, one meant to intimidate, but it only fueled the fire for me.

"So stay away from Wesker, stay away from Claire, and stay away from Leon."

"I see." A thoughtful look came over her expression. It didn't matter to me if she suspected Maritza of saying anything because I'd have her back. For this, I would ignore that neither of these women should have developed any feelings towards him. "Just remember this," a polished nail pointed in my direction, "If I wasn't meant to be here then Wesker would have never saved my life."

Thankfully, she spun on her heel and walked away, saving me from lowering myself to cursing at a woman, and possibly even fighting one. This wasn't the last time I'd see her though, her confidence alone told me that.

April 3, 2002 Wednesday 1:29 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Anxious

Great. Krauser was guarding the door. Seeing him there almost deterred me from even attempting to see Al, but I didn't have anything better to do. Rejection was becoming less and less painful nowadays, especially when it became a game to figure out when I'd be pushed away. Just like a soldier he stood with his chin in the air, keeping me out of his field of vision purposely. Though that was how it was usually done by guards, it was still a dick move.

"Okay Jack let me in." Being ignored was not something I dealt with very well, and he was really pushing me to the limit with nearly a minute of silence. "Jack?" Waving my hand in front of his face, I leaned to the side to attempt to get his attention, hoping he'd meet my eyes. "Jack Krauser!" My voice almost reached a full-throated yell, but I didn't want to piss him off too much when he was the one who got to decide whether or not I entered.

His mouth twitched, but I received no other indication that he had heard me. There was no way he was tuning me out completely when I was as loud as a banshee.

My mood changed quite drastically, that feeling of utter loneliness returning that coupled itself with guilt due to my admitted selfishness. Wesker was working, he was working to help me, or rather us. I didn't mind being alone in the past because at least then I was still able to pick up the phone and call someone despite ignoring them for months on end, but now I simply _couldn't_ do that. So I nodded to Jack once I remembered there was one person here that I could still talk to, or at least I hoped I could. "I'll just go find Ada," I announced, my voice small and quiet. Turning my back on my sometime-bodyguard I prepared myself for what would more than likely turn out to be a fruitless search for Ada who was quite good at not being found.

"You shouldn't be so trusting of her," came his gruff voice, his words stopping me so effectively as if they were a physical force.

He'd taken away my final hope for having a regular conversation with someone. Did he want me to hate him? My temper flared as I turned back around, storming in Jack's direction, "Wesker open the goddamned door I know you can hear me!"

Arms at the ready to intercept me, Jack took a step forward into a defensive stance. My body was braced for what could have possibly turned into a light tussle that would end in me being pinned to the ground while I attempted to punch him.

"Let's her in Krauser!"

Instantly, the blond stepped to the side, falling back into his soldier mindset, something that hid any shame he may have felt right now.

As I fought the urge to stick out my tongue I began walking calmly for the door, turning the knob and stepping inside. Though I wanted nothing more than to run over to him happily I still remembered his choice to ignore me, so I took my time in shutting the door behind me. When I thought that I'd perfected my careless expression I turned back to him, surprised by his lounging posture.

One leg was crossed over the other, he leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in his lap, and no shades present. Despite knowing my emotions and thoughts very well he remained quiet, possibly waiting for me to spill my guts like I usually did. Giving me time to rant was admirable of him, but I needed reassurance right now.

"Two days. You avoided me for two days." My voice was shaking, not an exaggeration at all, no trick to gain his sympathy.

With a face and voice as calm as ever he said, "Claire-"

"You didn't even speak to me, call me." Though I'd cut him off I paused to take a breath in an attempt to keep my voice down. "I know I was crazy then but… I promise it's over now. Just talk to me." There, I'd begged. Nothing about it was insincere. Sure, I didn't want to talk about what I was thinking the other night but I knew for sure that those crazy ideas were just that. I knew we couldn't have a baby right now and no matter what my hormones were screaming for me to say, they were wrong. Inside I knew though that I couldn't bring it up, because if I did then I'd be sounding crazy all over again.

Lost in my jumbled thoughts I failed to notice that he'd gotten to his feet, walking towards me until his face was inches from mine. A cold, bare hand caressed my cheek, its owner still as calm as he was before. As his hand cupped my cheek I felt a fluttering in the pit of my stomach that only intensified as he leaned forward to touch his lips to mine. Nothing needed to be done in this moment, no grabbing was necessary when he could convey so much with a single kiss that needed no effort behind it. With one hand I heard him unzipping his pants, still quiet, still calm. His own mood set the tone for me, allowing him to step away without an objection from me. In that same unusual and relaxed mood he sat back down in his chair.

Without so much as a nod from him I pulled down my shorts, kicking them off to the side. This was my reassurance, and I didn't even have to ask for it. He could feel what I wanted and I could feel what he wanted, a fact that reminded me that no matter what we would always be bound to one another by what I knew was no mere theory. It was real, and it was intoxicating. It was so strong that it nearly drove us to ignore the information and logic that we both had access to. It was chemistry. God save the man that would dare try to come between this, because we both were learning the hard way that it was almost an impossible feat for even us to ignore it.

A/N: Was going to write some porno for y'all at the end but then I realized how damn long this chapter was getting. I cut out quite a few things due to length and how much longer it would've taken to get this up. Now: Poll. Go vote. Review.


	29. In Aeternum

A/N: "In Aeternum" means "forever." It's a choppy chapter and I explain why in the end A/N because I don't want to keep you reading too long up here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters but I own this story and all original characters. I also do not own the song "Fingerprint," it is the work of the talented Leona Lewis and even though it wasn't written in 2002 I just freaking like it ok? So I suggest you listen to the song in place of the lyrics typed out.

lostsoul512: Sorry to have kept you waiting but here it is! And thank you, I just wish we had another month of July!

Haveyouseenmyghost: Told y'all I wouldn't abandon it! Hope this chapter can somewhat make up for my absence.

TanuSherry: Or perhaps our Wesker may have to reprioritize… well he probably can't too much lol. I think it would be fun to write Claire as a mom. Hmmm.

xXx Tinkies xXx: Thank you and I hope you've been well!

lovesrain: Thank you so much I'm glad to hear that! However, to Steve or not to Steve is a big question. I mean Claire could maybe have a dream and I may just do that for you since I believe I originally intended to do something like that earlier in this fic. I used to be a Steve/Claire and Wesker/Alexia fan and then… I guess I just ran across a fic one day that completely changed my fic ship flag. In the rewrite of another story I think I will mention Steve more so I'll let you know when I get on that. And don't worry about the poll; I am counting your vote in mentally whenever I check back.

fluffybunny4eva: Thank you! And hopefully this chapter is good enough because I have been acting crazy and having a hard time sitting still. So forgive the choppiness and hopefully I'll be able to go back and add to it later.

Optio

Chapter 29: In Aeternum

April 7, 2002 Sunday 7:08 AM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Sylt, Germany

Status: Fine

The word blissful was never one I used to describe my mood too often; after all it seemed so dramatic of an expression. Yet what else could I say to illustrate what it felt like to be trying to pack for a trip where I'd have some human contact, and though I'd have to overlook who the company was it was still enough for me to get excited over. The blush that I was sure was on my face though was caused by something more immediate, more physical. "We have to get ready," I whispered, a set of lips lining my jaw with kisses, eventually trailing down to my neck. Red Lodge was more than a distant memory, the stolen kisses, the quickies that resulted in leaving much later than intended, they were all back. I had no idea what had gotten into Al these past few days, but who was I to deny him the chance to act like a love struck boy? My hands rested on his shoulders, the material of his black turtleneck soft to the touch, and their abandoned purpose for being there was to hold him back so that I could find my carryon. His affections were not letting up though as an arm pulled me up to my tip-toes, his hand gripping my behind while he took advantage of my closeness by stealing a kiss that I couldn't help but reciprocate.

"Sir the plane is- Oh!" Jack's interruption was welcomed, although it was begrudgingly admitted by me, but we had to get going and Al was making it more and more difficult to stay on my feet and out of the bed. "I'm sorry, I usually knock but you guys are gonna miss your own private flight if you don't get going." His sentence was so fast that it was almost jumbled, forcing me to replay the statement a few times in my head.

As I looked around for the red and black pack it felt like Al still refused to let go of me, and as he gave a sigh of exasperation I immediately took a step back to check under the bed. Lo and behold there it was. In the past Al wanted me to carry some fancy bag with me, but I felt more secure with a backpack strapped over both my shoulders. This pack was merely coming to give me peace of mind, a sense of liberty since I had no clue what to bring to this fancy gala or whatever they were calling it. My outfits were already picked out for me, shipped over to the estate and to our room. I was sure there would be a larger selection of dresses than I needed in all sorts of different materials: charmeuse, satin, maybe even a poly-cotton blend since he knew I wasn't for all these fancy things. Sure I enjoyed these houses, not having to worry about what to wear, and money never being an object, but if he wanted to move back to a small town I'd be fine with that.

Before we headed out the door, he grabbed me by the waist, almost making me forget what Jack had just said.

"Hey," I whispered, "today's a good a time as any for me to join the 'Mile High Club.'" While I managed to a get a tiny smirk out of him, I found one creeping across my own mouth, and he once more let me go.

The drive over to the airport was a short one, made to seem longer because of the awkward silence; Jack didn't seem too excited about being left in Sylt while we jetted off to another country without him.

After a few fake takes out the window of the limousine he finally looked back to us, Al preoccupied with text messages on his phone. "Where are you guys going?"

As Jack waited for a reply we were met with the sound of Al's fingers quickly hitting the buttons on his phone. "Dubai."

"A what?" I blurted out, frowning so hard that my head began to hurt.

"It's in the Middle East?"Apparently Jack wasn't familiar with it either, and I felt dumb for assuming for a moment that because he was a soldier he should know everything.

"Yes." He finally put his phone away as we neared the small airport. "I assure you that I will be with Claire at all times." It was so backwards for him to say that, but Jack took this job seriously, something that I was grateful for. Though I wasn't thoroughly filled in on the events of 9/11 I knew Jack worried about me traveling period, but this trip was with Albert Wesker and people like him. It would be fine.

Twirling a strand of my freshly, dyed hair, I tried to avoid making eye contact with Jack. There was nothing I could say to make him feel better, because I sure as hell wasn't going to beg for him to be brought on the trip with us. For a few days I didn't want to deal with Jack being just outside our door as we attempted to… well act as a couple did behind closed doors, and this was going to feel like real time alone with him. We would be set up in an estate with other rooms, other people sure, but I'd think of it as a vacation where we lodged in a hotel. I knew he had other things to do, but while we were here it would be more play than work. According to him it was an event where pharmaceutical companies' CEOs and representatives met to basically enter in a dick measuring contest. I wasn't sure who Al was representing or maybe he was there to merely auction off his abilities, but I wasn't sure the reason he gave me was the only one. He'd said that he still had friends in that world, friends who were willing to still bet on him despite not understanding his full role in the Raccoon City outbreak. These people had continued to show interest in his current business moves, and I didn't even know that he'd been making any recently.

The last time I saw any sign of him being employed was during the Veronica outbreaks on Rockfort and in the Antarctica base. I'd never heard of HCF before that and I hadn't heard of it since then. Come to think of it I don't even think he was employed by them… Before I confused myself and got into a snooping mood I picked up my pack to make sure I had everything I'd meant to put inside. A few books, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a blanket, and a tablet with a pen secured onto the spiral. Since this was a private plane I was sure we would be flying with everything we'd possibly need, but as I said before, I needed this peace of mind. So those trivial items were important to _me_.

We got through the tiny airport fairly easily; a passport for Illyria Wishkar was kept on my person while Al had his. I never asked to see his; I just knew the first name was Edward from a glance, but I didn't pry. I'd learned in South America that this could only continue to work if I didn't ask too many questions, and just tell myself that Al had my best interest at heart. This also meant accepting that sometimes he would do things to hurt other people or completely disregard their wellbeing, only taking him and myself into account. This was my world now, and everyone who wasn't us was against us.

April 7, 2002 Sunday 2:45 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Status: Fine

Seven hours on a private plan went by a lot faster than I expected, mostly because I was able to actually fall asleep thanks to Al. Once we made it to Dubai I was nervous, because though we were at a private hangar there was always the fear of there being someone from America that knew who we were. We were met with another limousine, allowed to bypass the actual airport and the security. Obviously whoever was hosting this thing was a powerful person, and one that put a lot of his faith in big pharma… lovely person I was sure.

On the drive over we stayed pretty quiet, me sitting on the opposite side; I didn't want to smother him though he seemed fine with doing just that to me. Right now I was impressed by the architecture. The buildings were tall, somehow sparkling in the sunlight, and there were plenty of them. I had no idea that there was another Las Vegas in the world, but even with that comparison I had to admit that it looked slightly barer. It was quite obvious that more building was going to take place, something that was exciting but made me question the city.

Al must have seen me staring because he crept over to my side and took a seat next to me. "In a few years this will be the most expensive country in the world."

Our gazes met. "How do you know?"

"The prince is a powerful man who has great ambition. Perhaps we will make a trip back in a few years."

I didn't want to smile but I did. Everything was new all over again and I could tell that he was milking it for all it was worth. Maybe he thought that we now had a chance to do things somewhat right, and despite me not being able to conjure up a vision of Albert Wesker "courting," I wouldn't ruin this for us. Happy was not a word you would use to describe him or his mood, seeing as he came off as possessing only one: pensive. What else was I supposed to say?

"Quite a few things will happen next year."

"What do you mean?" Without realizing it I had gotten closer to him, probably something he had planned for given his affectionate mood as of late.

My inquisitiveness brought a smirk to his face, one that said he was keeping the details a secret, but he'd throw me a bone. "We should be able to travel more safely by next year."

My mouth fell open, a single laugh leaving it, and I fought the urge to throw myself onto him. "So we'll be able to use our real names?"

"I cannot promise that we will be safe everywhere, and we will continue to take precautions, but we should be able to travel under our names when it's necessary."

"How?!" I almost yelled.

With a shake of his head he said quietly, "You will find out. There is a debt that I owe, and repaying it will also benefit me."

Though I wanted to lay off on the hugs and kisses just because it wasn't our normal behavior I couldn't help myself when I jumped onto his lap and kissed him. _This_ was the best gift he could give me as of today. "Please tell me there are no more surprises because otherwise I'm gonna have a heart attack," I giggled.

"I make no promises."

"What else could there be?"

His expression was devilish, something that enticed me even further, and I wanted to give in to his little game. There was no point in telling him no since I'd missed most of the city; his latest revelation made sure of that, but he did promise to bring me back when it was built up a bit more. So now I was stuck here, the two of us staring at one another, neither knowing what to do, only one of us knowing what we wanted. While lost in thought I suddenly felt his hand on my thigh, the leather smooth against my jeans, his grip tightening as his fingers inched towards the inside. A haze fell over me, a breath caught in my throat, and I struggled as my body begged me to give in to him. As I grappled with my brain and my body I felt the car come to a stop, a feeling of relief washing away my doubt over the moment, and to take my mind off of it I bent my neck to look out the window.

The estate was massive, larger than any other mansion I'd seen so far. More than likely the owner couldn't even count the bedrooms, and more than likely it was nothing more than a home he occupied on vacations and holidays. Though the limo came to a stop, I felt it was appropriate to wait for Al. I had no desire to look as impressed as I truly was, like a child on their way to an amusement park. Because Al was still looking at me, his hand still on my lap, I gave a small smile, really wanting to get a better view of the "palace" behind him.

"We have so much time for more of that later," I whispered. Our sex life had taken a very positive turn, and thankfully I had gotten my stamina up to continue these four sessions a day. My body was different, my ability to heal instantly being the main attribute, but eventually I would tire. There was a chance my body would go into its mode survival if I got too fatigued. Though I wasn't sure what had gotten into Al and though I appreciated the affections he lavished me with, I was very curious as to what brought this change about. He was working less, he was smirking more, and sometimes I think he wanted to tell me things he would've never uttered before. When we'd had sex this morning he was so spontaneous, waking me up with nuzzling and kisses. When we had sex on the plane he took me with such want that I'd feared he felt something was quite possibly going to go wrong. His gaze told me that he wanted me now, to hold the limo for a quickie but I wanted to test him, to see exactly what deprivation of my affections would drive him to do.

Tonight would he pull me out of the party into a hallway, to tear my dress to shreds, or would he be able to feign indifference throughout the event? Our life had become a honeymoon where we snuck off to be alone, where we missed everything happening around us because we were lost in each other's eyes, held there by our own chemical responses. We unintentionally controlled one another, losing time, and essentially he'd lost his old self. This led me to believe that he still had a sense of who he was, but I truly believed that right now he transforming for me, becoming someone that I could never reject. Albert Wesker was in love with me, Claire Redfield. In an attempt to not become too mesmerized by that realization, I grabbed his hand.

"Today is gonna be perfect. And for that, I thank you. Because now I know."

His body leaned forward, his lips pressing into my forehead. "You're welcome," he whispered before pulling away. He turned to open the door, a bright stream of sunlight pouring into the cab, blinding me momentarily.

Scooting to the door, I saw a gloved hand reach for my own, and I was accepting of the assistance. Once my body left the cab completely I was hit with a dry heat that managed to wrangle my attention away from the white and gold mansion. The gloved hand squeezed my own, making me wonder how the hell he could wear a full black suit and gloves when it had to be over one hundred degrees out. Somehow, through the brightness I managed to see palm trees, shrubs, and features of that palace. Windows lined the front, all the style you would think you'd only see in some movie that merely pretended to be set in the Middle East. Golden turrets were set high on the building, numerous archways lined the front, and a set of golden doors reaching far above us welcomed us. As I stood there confused on whether or not to knock, the doors flew in, producing a short, round man with tan skin and a hooked nose in white robes and a white ghutra.

"Albert!" The shouting man ushered us inside, his deep, brown eyes twinkling with genuine joy at our arrival. "You are late!"

I didn't move until I saw Al step forward, and I followed cautiously. Inside it was much cooler, the foyer as big as a house on its own. Everything in here was white as well, including the floor, but at least that wasn't trimmed with gold but it did show our reflections clearly as if it were a mirror. Portraits lined the wall upstairs, possibly containing the faces of our host's ancestors, and a couple of ficus houseplants occupied corners while small trees were housed in giant, gold vases on either side of the stairwell. To the right and left of us there were doorways that almost reached the ceiling, from both directions I heard women and men speaking in a tongue that I didn't recognize.

"This must be Claire!" the man cried, almost making me jump. When I looked at him his hand was extended towards me, "I am Mr. M.!"

Shaking his hand I smiled uneasily. "Nice to meet you." Mr. M. wasn't too bad of a guy once you got over his constant yelling that he considered to be at a conversational volume. It wasn't too difficult to ignore it though once we were being showed the ballroom where the event would take place. Though it didn't deviate in its color from the rest of the house it was draped with sheer, white veils that were hung in random places but they managed to come together to create a beautiful sight. The room was larger than the foyer, white chaise lounges here and there, little, gold tables next to them meant to hold drinks. Towards the front of the room the floor was elevated into the shape of a stage, a few steps leading up. It was all beautiful, though I couldn't help but question Mr. M.'s obsession with white and gold. I was sure that I would enjoy my time here though, but if he was going to continue yelling at me then I hoped it wouldn't be that much time.

So far Mr. M. had continued to be a friendly man, one who was eccentric, full of hope and joy, and this also led me to believe that he had a side darker than Al. Towards his servants he was kind yet appropriately dismissive as to demonstrate to them that no lines would be blurred. Mr. M. was introduced as a great businessman and he was indeed showing me that by simply presenting himself as being in charge of this estate. He would not turn down his nose at them, yet he would not allow them to think that they were on the same level. Mr. M. demanded respect, a demand that I would comply with as a guest, as would Al.

April 7, 2002 Sunday 3:46 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Status: Fine

We watched a few maids drag in our bags, bowing their heads before leaving us to take in the room's beauty. Everything was white in our room as well and the plush carpets that would feel like heaven under my bare feet looked so inviting. The upper level of the room was designated as the rest area. The bed was filled with pillows that would more than likely be tossed onto the armchair at the end of the night and the bench in front of the bed would more than likely go ignored. There was a set of doors next to the bed that more than likely guarded a walk-in closet, and a single door on the lower level of the other side of the room was opened to reveal a bathroom. From what I can see it was a sky-blue color, a reprieve from the white in every other room in the house. The level of the room that we stood on now had a loveseat facing the television set into the wall, a little coffee table in front of it holding a large, gold tray of what I assumed was meant to be our meal. My eyes wandered back to those sheets on the bed that looked so fluffed that it appeared they'd deflate when I jumped onto it, but I would not test that theory just yet; I wouldn't get up from that bed if Al witnessed another opportunity. Rest was certainly on my mind but we had an even to get dressed for, and I was sure that I had a wide selection of dresses to choose from for tonight.

So despite my desire to plop down and chill for a moment I walked over to the closet doors, opening them to find that what was supposed to be a space merely for housing clothes was another room in itself. Both sides had two racks, one on top of the other with drawers underneath them, the right side reserved for Al's suits, the left reserved for my dresses. It seemed so much fuss went into this when I'd only need one dress for this one event. Chiffon, silk, sequined dresses all set up for me. I'd definitely reject anything sequined. Immediately one dress caught my eyes though. It was black and it looked simple enough sitting there, stuffed between two fancy dresses covered in rhinestones. It was a stretchy material that was ruched in the front, the top draping down slightly but not offering too much room for exposure. The back was open the right amount, but at the top there was material bonded so that the dress would stay around my neck securely. As I held it up to me I was pleased to find that it'd reach past my knees. This was it.

April 7, 2002 Sunday 7:23 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Status: Fine

The black, ruched dress hugged my body nicely, not pinching too much in the wrong places, but just right. Somehow I was managing to walk gracefully in my sky-high heels, elevating me by about seven inches and making it a little easier to reach Al's face, but I would make sure to control my impulses to be affectionate towards him while we were around these fat-cats. As we entered the ballroom I felt a little self-conscious; most of the people here were older couples so the women were dressed a bit more refined. There was no harm in me enjoying my youth I suppose though, it just bothered me that these women came from money or married into it and reformed themselves all to fit in with those who were considered the upper crust, wearing the finest in fashion when I could only throw out the name Vivienne without even knowing what an outfit from her would look like. For a moment this got me down; I don't think Al cared about dressing up in a $2000 suit, but he just did it because he could whereas I had no idea where to even start. I guess the label would speak for itself in my case though, no accessories needed, just the tag discarded in my trash bin that would say $465. God I wanted to be naked in my room right now.

"Are you all right?" Al's question caught me off guard as we slowly made our way towards the crowd, and as I snapped my head in his direction my ringlets flew behind me, tickling my back.

"It's just a little… intimidating." My admission made me feel inadequate, like I didn't belong here and I really didn't. Then again to think such a thing meant admitting that I didn't belong at his side when that's the only place in the world I could see myself. "I guess I need to conform or something-"

Mid-stride he spun to face me, grabbing my arms to hold me in place. "Claire, you do not have to change. If I wanted to be with any of these women then I would be here with one of them. Though we may not be the same in our actions, we are the same in our tenacity."

A small smile crept across my lips as I let his words sink in, all those little worries dissolving. I didn't see him as saying that I was worthy, as if I had some test to pass and I exceeded his expectations. I saw this as him saying that I was a challenge and an individual whose rights he would not rob, and he would leave me to think or feel or dress however the hell I wanted as long as I remained the person I was. Feeling more confident, I was about to turn back to continue walking, but he didn't let go.

"And you Claire Redfield are not boring."

Unable to contain how grateful I was for that, I moved in and he leaned down to kiss me on my lips.

"Ah Albert Wesker! Always fashionably late!" Mr. M.'s voice was not what was so unmistakable, it was his volume. Though he did not scare us into cutting our PDA short I did immediately turn to face him, knowing that he deserved the attention he sought, and I would not be rude to a host so gracious. He was also loyal to Al and that in and of itself made me respect him.

Mr. M. was wearing a black suit as well, but his white ghutra was still atop his head and I really didn't expect it to go anywhere. I wasn't too conversant with the customs of the Middle East, not even knowing where Mr. M. was from exactly, but the fact that he gave an initial as his name told me that he had no intention on divulging that much information.

"How you liking your room?!" He asked excitedly, however, his jovial disposition was not infectious which led to me smiling back in what I felt was an awkward fashion. Thankfully I fooled everyone else pretty easily though.

Since Al only smiled cordially I assumed he was going to leave the talking to me, which I guess was an opportunity for me to practice at watching my mouth. He may have liked me the way I was but I wanted to grow up just a little bit for my own sake. "Everything is great Mr. M. and your home is beautiful. Thank you so much for having us."

He waved his hand to say that it was no big deal. "Claire, Albert is like a son to me! I love this man! All I ask is that when you have a son, you name him after me, yes? What kind of name is M. for a baby? I kid!" Thank God. "But I have to go make sure everyone here has good time, so Albert you have fun, Claire you have fun! Don't worry about everything else, just know that it was taken care of the second people heard your name!" Mr. M. came in to give Al a hug, a sight that was a little odd, and then he crushed me in an embrace next, kissing my cheek before yelling across the room to another partygoer and walking off. That man.

Al and I continued to walk through the crowd; he nodded here and there at different people who either nodded back or raised their glasses of champagne. Two people were standing in front of us, one of them an older man with silver hair that was slicked back, curling at the ends of the strands. His skin was an olive tone, his suit gray, and he was barely 5'7. The woman next to him was about 5'9 with lighter skin and a bit of weight on her, but her build and curves made it a little less noticeable. Her dress draped down in the front as did mine, but she was exposing far more cleavage than me. Actually her breasts were pretty much exposed. The back of her dress didn't exist until just above her ass and because of that and its tacky, gold color I felt a bit better about my own dress. The woman's cheeks were a bit fat, and her skin around her eyes were darkened with makeup, making her clear, blue eyes that were too high on her face seem more intense as she stared intently at Al. She had a thin nose, slightly pointed and a wide jaw with almost-full lips that were smothered in gloss. As she tilted her head to the side I noticed how long her neck was, and that coupled with her oversized, black bun of hair made her seem taller than she really was.

"Dr. Wesker," the man said in a deep voice that sounded like the rumble of thunder, his accent Italian. "It's so good to see you."

"Ciao Dr.," the woman purred, completely ignoring that I was standing next to Al. I also took note that she was also Italian.

"Dr. Gionne, Excella," he said with a nod. "I haven't seen you since you were a little girl."

"I'm nineteen now!" she said excitedly, reaching at him like she initially meant to slap his arm, but she seemed to realize that that wasn't a good idea.

He looked down at me and said, "This is my partner, Claire Redfield."

I smiled, faking that I hadn't thrown my manners out the window the second she let her eyes rove over Al like he was a piece of meat meant for her. Hungry bitch alert, I thought, almost rolling my eyes.

Before I could say hello Excella asked, "For which company does she work?" Excella's question seemed stupid because of her tone and smile. She was completely oblivious to our relationship, but what could I expect seeing as I wasn't known in this world.

"Penso che lei è la sua fidanzata." Mr. Gionne seemed to be a bit embarrassed as he smiled nervously at who I assumed to be his daughter since I doubt she'd show so much interest in Al in front of her sugar daddy.

Al rested his hand on the small of my back. "Si, è la mia fidanzata… Per ora." He finished his sentence with a smirk, and I wished I knew what he was saying so I could smirk with a purpose rather than just mimic his expressions. This however, solidified any relationship in the eyes of the public it seemed, when two people were so in sync that it was hard to tell where one's personality ended and the other's started.

"Ahhhhh!" Mr. Gionne's smile grew wider.

His daughter's smile changed however, almost becoming as fake as my own, except I could _tell_ that hers was phony. "I wish you all the best."

As they said their goodbyes I noticed that Al had been tense during this conversation, something that struck me as odd. Moving closer to him I asked, "Who are they?"

"The Gionnes." He gaze was on them until they both disappeared into the crowd. "Their family founded Tricell. I'd never fall in bed with them; they're barely a step above common mobsters."

That's good to know, I thought to myself, placing my free hand on his arm to calm to him. Something about those two seemed to throw him off his game, or maybe he'd put too much effort in trying to be nice because usually he didn't smile so much.

"Dr. Gionne is a good man, but the same cannot be said for the rest of his family and those involved with Tricell."

Suddenly the crowd had quieted, making me think that they had heard him, but when I looked up everyone was looking to the stage where Mr. M. stood with a huge smile on his face. Thankfully there was no microphone present because I was sure that he wouldn't need any aid in being heard. His announcement was quick, to the point, and we all understood what he was saying was about Al. Everyone here was throwing their hat in with him that much was clear, however, I couldn't understand what they were all throwing their hats in for. There was a business venture involved no doubt, but there was no explanation as to what this was. They would blindly follow from what I could tell, and once this hit me I was not interested in what they were specifically referring to. People had his back; they would help him and watch out for him. Looking into his eyes I almost smiled, knowing that soon things would be a bit safer for the two of us, and maybe someday I wouldn't have to worry about him not returning home.

The rest of the evening consisted of more talk, the older couples were snootier and hoity-toity but because of whom they were there for they chose to play it down. They were nice to me; complimenting my hair and eyes (I didn't have a reason to wear my contacts here). They'd called me beautiful, him lucky, and a few times they asked what my occupation was. Al would tell them I was taking a break from my studies and the older women would smile and say, "I've been saying that for years." They were all aware that they were kept women and they more than likely felt that I would follow the same path, something that I wanted to ensure didn't happen. They asked if we had been hearing wedding bells in our future, if we had any children, and thankfully before we were forced to answer any of those questions they would pull out wallets stuffed with pictures of their children or grandchildren. I'd never been in this position before. It was like a family reunion and everyone was clamoring for a chance to see who the favorite son brought home. Needless to say when he pulled me off to go back to the room I was grateful, but I didn't think I'd be getting much rest tonight.

April 7, 2002 Sunday 8:41 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Status: Great

Intertwined, one. Hands roamed over me, my breasts, my abdomen, and my thighs. Every stroke was painstakingly slow, slow enough to make me beg. My body trembled, my mouth ached, and I was drenched in sweat. Fatigue wouldn't bring an end to our night; we had been deprived of such an opportunity for far too long, and we had no intention of allowing another disruption. It must have killed him not to come, something I knew because it was killing me to stay in this state of limbo. Would we soon, or would we not? There were only so many times I could handle being brought to my peak only to be let down.

Our grips on one another were so strong that we were crushing each other, all so that changing positions would be easier on us. Right now we were both on our sides, his stomach to my back, and I had my neck craned to look into his eyes. I was grinding my hips into his, his pace slow as he reentered me, a hand finding one of my breasts. I wiped a strand of hair from my forehead, wet with the sweat that resulted from our passion. His lips pressed against my cheek, his hand wandering down to my clitoris where his fingers massaged it, wringing a moan from me. To stop myself from getting any louder I turned my head around, inviting him for a kiss. Soon I found my hand wandering back to his hip, and I pulled at him to signal to enter me deeper. He moaned into our kiss, his tongue running over my bottom lip, but I did not wish to incite him so much that he lost his focus. Forehead to forehead our bodies worked together, a rhythm finally that we could both keep.

My neck was tired from the strain, so I laid my head down, and his hand took hold of mine. Finally, after what felt like forever he reached his climax, holding me as close to him as he could. By now I was ready to drift off to sleep, exhausted after morning sex, a plane ride that involved sex, the event, and now this. I believe I deserved some sleep and it was becoming extremely difficult for me to keep my eyes open to navigate my way to the bathroom. As I lie there I told myself I could afford to just rest my eyes for a moment.

_Knock, knock!_

I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of someone knocking on the door.

"Dr. Wesker!" someone called.

I heard felt his body pull away from mine as he turned his head to yell, "Not now!"

For a moment we heard nothing, until finally we heard the sound of retreating footsteps. Then he raised my hand, "What happened to your ring?"

This inquiry had somehow sent a jolt through my system, waking me up. My own gaze had gone to my hand, my ring finger bare. "I left it, and I'm sure Chris has found it by now." Why did I say that? "I'm sorry. It's awkward when I talk about him since you two hate and want to kill each other."

"Initially," he began, pausing as he began to rub his thumb over the top of my hand, "I never meant to harm Chris."

"Al, he told me about the Spencer Estate incident." My tone was reassuring, a fact that made me seem crazy since any sane person would never even put themselves in a position to be in bed with him.

"I never intended for him to fail. I even offered Chris a position. Though I don't expect anyone to understand my reasoning it was only a matter of time before I had to have some sort conversation with you about it."

Staring ahead at the side of the nightstand I took a deep breath, finally saying what I'd been thinking aloud for him to hear. "I try to separate that from what we have. He is my brother, and knowing my brother he was done with me the moment he realized that I said yes to you." Just for a second I wanted to cry for the loss that I'd been denying since January 1, 2001. I'd taken up Al's offer to help Chris, and I felt I could handle the situation because at the time he was human. I'd taken grown men on before and won so there was nothing for me to fear and so maybe Chris could've forgiven that with some time, but the day I gave Albert Wesker my virginity was the final nail in the coffin of our familial bond. The love that Chris and I had as siblings had been tainted somehow by me giving myself to the man that he hated the most. "I just want you to promise me something Al." I gave pause before saying anything more. "Don't kill Chris. Please don't." I still hadn't looked into his eyes for fear that I might break down and shed a tear or two. Then he'd be left to wipe them away and possibly be guilted into a vow that he would forget in the field during that next battle between the two of them.

"I promise I won't kill Chris," he swore without hesitation. I didn't need to look him in the eye now either because I knew that he meant what he said, especially to me. "It is imperative that we both stand on mutual ground." He released my hand and rolled over, the sound of his nightstand being opened and closed causing me to furrow my brow. I felt his hand once more searching for my own, but rather than take it into his again I felt something cold slip around my ring finger.

When I looked down I saw a ring almost identical to the last one I had resting around my digit.

"For our sake we must both attempt to keep some things separate or control our impulses."

Finally I turned around to look at him, the seriousness of his gaze burning more than the fiery rings of his eyes.

"Claire, is this what you want?"

No other word would dare pass my lips but, "Yes." Once I'd realized that this was a proposal I wouldn't shoot it down or have a second thought about my response. This was the moment that January 1, 2001 had been leading up to all along and I no longer saw the point in denying that. Neither of us knew it but neither of us probably saw it ending any other way. Every time we vowed to end it we just continued on, incapable of ceasing any manifestation of our emotions, slaves to the very things we knew were dangerous when it came to the lives we led.

"It will result in a public, record alert to law-enforcement agencies-"

"That won't make much of a difference since I'm already wanted. This way if we're caught they'll definitely keep us together." I knew this to be true because it was just a hunch that they wanted to experiment further with reproductive capabilities of the infected. Sick and twisted as their logic was it was a sure-fire way to ensure that we'd be kept close, and if we were captured then there's no way they'd be able to keep him from getting me back. So before he could warn me anymore I kissed him, warming inside at the thought that this time I wore a ring from him it would be real and not some staged event. This time I'd wake up after making love to him and I could say that it meant something to have a diamond on my finger; I could smile knowing that it was most certainly love that led him to do the things that he did for and with me. When I pulled back I felt like I shouldn't have even stopped, but it was probably better at this point that I did. "Maybe you'll join me in that in-ground tub with the Jacuzzi jets," I teased, sitting up to go to the bathroom.

He smirked back at me, "I'll be in, in just a moment."

April 7, 2002 Sunday 9:06 PM

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Status: Fine

Once I heard the water running in the bathroom I rolled over to pick up my phone, punching in Krauser's number. The phone only rang twice before he answered, probably waiting for my call as he had nothing else to do since I'd left. His loyalty was not the kind that could be bought either, but rather, it was earned through my hard work and a little help from Alexia Ashford's leftovers.

"Yes sir?" The enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable and frankly what I liked to hear from him.

Sitting up, I checked to make sure Claire had closed the bathroom door, and with the water running I felt that there was enough noise to ensure that she wouldn't hear anything. "Go into my office," I instructed, "There are documents in the top drawer of my desk. Make sure that my signature is at the bottom and that it is addressed to Seaborne." As I told him what to do I heard him moving through the house and soon after I could make out the sound of a lock turning over. After about a minute I added, "I am sure that you have skimmed through the document by now, so I am certain that I do not have to stress the importance of you delivering the papers to Seaborne directly."

"Yes sir."

Without further orders I ended the call, more worried about the fact that I had not factored this into my plans. This would make Claire happy, give her some purpose in this whole thing, yet for some reason I couldn't think about what it meant for me. My personality, my actions, they would all have to be either limited or altered ever-so-slightly to become appropriate for yet another role I'd take on. In no way would it be feasible for me to expect to make this happen for her and continue on as I had before. No, I would have to stay behind the scenes in many of my other plans, allow someone else to do the dirty work for me if this would work out for the better with me still being allowed to walk through my own home without fear of an icy wife. Before I could mull over it any further I heard someone knock on the door again, and because this was the second time I figured it'd be best that I answer. Though it was out of character for me to answer a door in such a state I merely stepped into a pair of boxers and opened the door to what appeared to be Mr. M's security.

Nervously, the man sputtered, "Dr. Wesker there's a potential threat in a new organization called the BSAA."

"Potential?" I asked.

"It's the founder sir!"

My mouth was now set in a straight line as I attempted to keep from raising my voice; I had no intention of alerting Claire to any _potential_ threat when her mood was so elevated. "Spit it out."

"It's Chris Redfield. He's in the country, possibly to zero in your location."

A single chuckle escaped me. "Take no action. We'll be leaving in the morning. Tell Mr. M. to call Charlie. Get him a flight to Rome." With that I shut the door in his face; sure he'd remember everything I said since his job was not the only thing that depended on it.

April 8, 2002 Monday 12:18 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Rome, Italy

Status: Confused

Italian was a lovely language, one that I was seemingly hearing more often as of late. What was just so frustrating to me at the moment though was that I couldn't understand it and that I was hearing it thrown back and forth quickly between three women this early. Okay so it wasn't that early, but it might as well have been since I'd been woken up at five and commanded to get ready to head for Rome. What was even weirder was that I was in an empty hotel that I assumed had been cleared out for our stay. The three women continued to bicker back and forth as they argued over duffle bags, tossing them back and forth, possibly trying to figure out whose was whose.

"I suoi capelli è bello!" one of them sang, tugging my ponytail holder from my hair a bit roughly.

One of the other women yelled at her in a smart tone before turning to look me in the eyes. "Parli Italiano signora?"

Who didn't know what hablo and parli meant in this day and age? "Um, no." Shyly, I shrugged at them, thinking they'd simply resume their little argument, but instead they all giggled at me.

"We are sorry signora; sometimes my two friends just forget their manners. I am Paola." Paola was a tall, slim brunette with hazel eyes. She was quite pretty, as were the others, but it was obvious that she was just a bit older than them. However, Paola also looked as though she possibly modeled in her day.

"I am Adriana," the shorter brunette announced with a smile so big that her brown eyes almost shut.

"And I am Catarina." Catarina was a few inches shorter than Paola, her straight, blonde hair falling to her waist in soft, fine strands.

"I'm Claire." I was still very much confused about what was transpiring. Why was I in a hotel room in a cleared out hotel while three women argued as I sat in a chair wearing a white robe? The sight of Adriana pulling a curling iron from her bag made my head hurt as I looked for reasons this could be happening.

"Aren't you excited?" Adriana plugged the wand into an outlet and set it on the table in front of me.

Catarina mumbled to herself as she pulled out a box and unfolded it, revealing different hues of eye shadow and blush. "Do you not know?" she asked, surprised.

While I swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, Paola wasted no time in declaring, "It is your wedding day!"

Oh boy.

April 8, 2002 Monday 3:00 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Rome, Italy

Status: Nervous

My heart was pounding so hard that I felt it beating against my ribcage, like it was trying to escape, or worse: explode. No matter how many lumps I swallowed down it seemed one more just came to replace the last, making my efforts futile. I agreed to this, I wanted this, but it just seemed so soon. I didn't expect a year to prepare amongst girlfriends and wedding planners, nor did I hope to book the Sistine Chapel. I just didn't expect it so soon… My face of makeup hid my apprehension well, allowing the mirror to see me as blushing bride with dark red lips and spider-leg lashes. My veil was clipped into the bun at the top of my head, black, loose curls dangling here and there, and I noticed that for the first time in my life I actually had a perfect side-part. Diamond studs were set into my ears, shining brightly in the mirror, their size perfect so I wouldn't looked as if I were showing off. Not like there was anyone to show this off to. My dress was laced up in the back, secured by my little helpers that disappeared as soon as I was ready, commenting on how beautiful I looked and lamenting over the agreement of no pictures for their portfolios. Snow white, the dress was made of organza, the top was a corset style with a sweetheart neckline, and just above my hip it flowed out in ruffles that reached the floor. My engagement ring that only lasted a night was now on the other hand, purely ornamental at this point. Still afraid to ruin my perfectly manicured nails and their French tips I daintily lifted up the gown to spin around a bit.

Behind me Mr. M. stood proudly, and he came forward to spread the veil out over my shoulders. I hadn't expected him to be there, and I didn't know him too well, but I knew that he seemed to care about Al an awful lot. So if he wanted to be here for this day then so be it.

Jack came out of the restroom fixing his cufflinks, muttering expletives under his breath. Once he looked up and saw me he looked shocked, more than likely because he had no idea I could look so elegant. "Wow."

Turning to face him I asked, "Did you know about any of this?"

"If I had do you think I would've actually picked out cufflinks? It was weird that a few days ago he had me sending in requests to some old contacts about legal paperwork."

With a smile I walked over to him to straighten his tie. "Thank you… for giving me away," I said with genuine appreciation. There was no one else who could or would other than Mr. M., but he would be holding the rings.

"Well I'll still be there all the time so technically…" he trailed off, grinning at his own statement. He knew that all my life I'd probably imagined Chris giving me away if a wedding were to ever take place, but that wouldn't be happening in this world. A part of me wanted to think that my father would have said yes, flown out without knowing about Al and what he'd done just to be able to walk his little girl down the aisle. I couldn't think of that though because Catarina's work would've been for nothing and today I was only allowed to cry when he vowed to love me forever and maybe after we kissed. I couldn't think of how my father would've said, "Claire I wish we would have known about this man, but if he makes you happy then of course I'm here." I couldn't think of my mother crying tears of joy as she snapped photographs that Al would allow at my request, and I _didn't _want to think of them asking where Chris was.

Before anymore of those thoughts painted themselves as a picture to play in my mind, producing visuals to bring me to tears I embraced Jack for the first time ever. "You're the best sometime-bodyguard a girl could have," I cried dramatically, seeing Mr. M. smile before nodding and leaving the room to join Al downstairs. I expected Jack to call me out on my theatrics, hoping he would bring his usual humor in to lighten the mood.

"And you're not a pain in the ass _all_ the time," he confessed, returning the embrace. When he released me looked down at me, a small smile on his face, "Let's get you guys hitched. And by the way, you're gonna _love_ your wedding gift."

Carefully we made our way down to the event hall, and I stood nervously outside the doors with my white bouquet clutched closely. I was sure I had only been standing there for a minute, yet it felt like an eternity of fidgeting and adjusting my cleavage. One of the doors opened slowly, Ada's head peeking out at me, and I beamed at her as she gestured for us to step inside. We walked inside, watching Ada take a seat at one of the many round tables next to a blonde man with a scruffy beard and a sly grin. She ignored him as he brought an arm around the back of her chair, both of them looking straight ahead. Dark walls gave me a sense of focus in this room, keeping me from noticing how empty it was in here, and sadly it kept me from noticing Al standing with his back turned while he conversed with a man in front of the stage, Mr. M. silently looking on. Thank God for that. As dimly lit as it was in here, I could see him perfectly, his blond hair perfect as always, his back impeccably straight, and his tailored suit fitting him perfectly.

The man he was speaking with pointed to me, but my ever-cool Al did not jump around to see me. From somewhere in the room I heard music begin, a song that didn't have to try to sound romantic to get the point across. Once again though, I was unable to understand the words. It pretty much described this whole thing. There was no understanding this, and you either accepted it or you moved around. As I'd said before, this was our world.

Jack held out his arm for me to take, and we began walking down the aisle at a slow pace as Ada and the stranger looked on almost happily. Halfway down I saw Al turning to face me with an expression that almost bordered on joyous, but it wouldn't have been him if he were smiling goofily. The smile was so small that I was only able to notice it because I knew him, and I knew that right now he was indeed happy. Because of our company he was unable to go without his shades, something that I could understand and deal with. Before I knew it though I was already there, Jack was releasing my arm so that I could stand in front of my groom, ready to take my vows in front of witnesses.

The officiant cleared his throat to signal that it was time for the music to be stopped, and it promptly ended. Not once could I pry my eyes away from Al; this was a moment you couldn't look away from, you couldn't even blink. "I thank you all for gathering here to bear witness to the union of Albert Wesker and Claire Redfield. Does anyone here know any reason that would prevent them from joining together in a legal union?" No one spoke. "Marriage is a sacred union that is cherished by those who enter it. Your love is to act as a testament to that union, and your dedication and faithfulness to one another will assist both of you through your hardest times and exalt you in your happiest moments throughout your lives."

I heard nothing, only saw him, and I think he felt the same. I'd already said yes. Yes to this life, yes to being at his side, and yes to loving him forever. The officiant's words were nothing but worthless blabber at this point and all we needed was to sign the certificate that would legalize our union. He asked we would love each other forever and we said yes. He asked if we would assist each other in times of need and we said yes. He asked if we took each other and husband and wife and we said yes. As we exchanged our rings we never looked down.

"I introduce to you as Mr. and Mrs. Wesker; you may now kiss the bride."

For the first time during the ceremony we paused in our responses. Al's hand now rested on his shades as he stood there stiff as a statue, and for a moment I prayed that he didn't adjust them. In his first act as my husband he removed his shades, tucking them into his vest, and I leaned in to him so that he could kiss me and signal what would be the start of a new forever.

April 13, 2002 Saturday 1:15 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: ?

Status: Fine

I didn't know where we were and truthfully I didn't care. The only thing I knew was that here was where we consummated our marriage after two days of abstaining during our stay in Italy. He'd taken me out in public, shown me the ruins of Rome without the aid of a tour guide, and he held me those two nights as we lie in bed waiting to fall asleep. Sure we'd kissed, we wanted to make things official but we also wanted to do it someplace that was our own and not a hotel room. He told me about the BSAA and about Chris searching for him, and once we set down on this island none of that mattered to me. Here we were safe to be Mr. and Mrs. Albert Wesker. I stared at the simple, platinum band that was identical to his own, glinting into the sunlight as I lie in bed naked.

"Where's my wedding gift?" My tone was joking as I looked up to him. He stood over me, fastening his belt that I kept playfully tugging at.

He buttoned up his shirt, a knock catching both of our attention. "That should be it," he said, heading for the door. Jack's hand slipped through the small opening, passing a manila folder to Al. His bright eyes looked over whatever was inside before he came to sit next to me on the bed, his back hiding the folder's contents from my view.

With a sigh I sat up to peek over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. "Is that a sonogram?" I stared down the picture, somehow making out a head in all of the blackness.

"It's still early, however the fetus is developing rapidly. In a few more months it will come to term, that is, if there are no abnormalities."

"You're giving me a baby," I breathed, lowering myself onto my knees. This was a lot to take in at the moment, yet this is what had wanted when I was baby-crazy. This would give me something to do when he was working, something to care for, some responsibility other than keeping my mouth shut.

Turning to look at me he asked, "Do you still want this?"

Rather than answer I threw myself onto him, hugging him as tightly as I could. "I want this," I stated calmly, meaning it with every fiber of my being. Yes, I wanted this.

"I have to take a call, I'll be back shortly." His lips brushed against my forehead as he stood up from the bed and walked out of the room, leaving me to contemplate how the universe let us slip through its karmic forces for this long. As I headed for the bathroom I knew that something had to happen soon, and whatever it was, was going to be unwanted or at the least a slight disturbance. I turned on the shower head, waiting for the water to heat up; there was nothing I hated more than a cold shower. After a minute of waiting I stepped inside, pleasantly surprised to find that it was the right temperature. I shut the shower door slowly, aware that the sound of it shutting was loud enough for someone to hear from downstairs. Steam rose slowly, dampening the air around me. I stepped directly under the stream to wet my hair, relishing the feel of the heat massaging my scalp. I hadn't sung in a very long time, not seriously at least. I'd had no reason to belt out any ballads about love or happiness in years, but today I felt what I'd been missing for so long. Not to toot my own horn but I was quite the songstress, kicking ass at karaoke in my favorite bars.

Humming to myself I shut my eyes, trying to hear the music and the voice of the original artist playing in my mind. The song was a challenge to me in the past, forcing me to repeat lines, to push my voice to get higher while maintaining my ability to sing other parts as an alto. It was one of my favorites, mainly because I never knew what it was about exactly or who she was singing about. I just knew that whoever it was couldn't be replaced in her life, and somehow that short message was stretched out because of the pacing and pauses. The lyrics were now playing in my head as I worked up the nerve to attempt to mimic the original singer's notes.

_Circles, with no end, the ink that stains my skin. Secrets of where you've been, is the only thing that I keep. _

_No match, no match, no match, for your fingerprint. No substitute, no other you. No match, no match, no match, for your fingerprint. No substitute, no other you._

_Bursting for one sip, of the innocence we once had. Shadows of the past, and the tattooed lines, of your kiss. _

_No match, no match no match, for your fingerprint. No substitute, no other you. Cause there can only be one. There can only be one. _

_Circes, with no end. The ink that stains my skin._

_No match, no match, no match, for your fingerprint. No substitute. No other you. Cause there can only be, one. There can only be one. There can only be one. There can only be one._

As I finished it I felt a sense of accomplishment. I felt I had done pretty well considering the lack of exercise my chords had been getting lately, and I laughed at the fact that I could do this whenever I wanted now without fear of neighbors complaining to the super. As I opened my eyes I noticed a dark form through the shower door, and I grinned to myself. "Okay, I know I'm rusty but for a Leona attempt that was-" The door rolled back, a rush of cold air hitting my naked form, and before I looked up I already knew it couldn't have been Al. "Chris?" In army fatigues, a gun strapped to his side, my brother stood in front of me speechless, no discernible expression on his face. There was no indication that he would hug me or apologize for his intrusion, but I had a feeling that he would complete neither action. "Chris?" I echoed, covering my breasts out of embarrassment over my brother staring me down while in the shower.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked loudly, but he wasn't yelling. Not yet. "You're singing?" he seethed, taking a step closer without regard for the stream between us.

In response to his movement I stepped back into the corner, ignoring the cold, slick tile pressing into my skin. Somehow he hadn't seen my rings that I'd vowed to never remove again, and to keep it that way I tucked my hands under my arms subtly.

"Do you love him?" His face had become wild, his stubble protruding noticeably, and I realized that I hadn't seen Chris this disheveled since he had gotten drunk a few years ago on the anniversary of our parents' death.

"Chris," I said once more, my voice shaking and almost pleading.

"Are. You. In. Love. With. Him?"

"Chris, please!" My cry for mercy from his wrath only incited him more.

He rushed into the shower, grabbing my arms and tearing them away from my body. I could feel my skin bruising from his crushing grip. His teeth were bared as he stared down at me with eyes red from a lack of sleep, and he'd lost any sense of reason the second he heard me singing. "Tell me you don't love him Claire!" Shaking my body violently he caused me to hit my head against the tile, but he wouldn't let up as his demand became a plea. "Please Claire tell me you don't love him!"

"Chris you're hurting me!" I shouted. My voice was breaking with fear and sadness as I felt my eyes burning from the presence of tears.

"Please Claire, please! Just say it."

"Chris, stop!" I wailed, feeling the exact, same spot of my head being knocked into the tile over and over again.

"Please, please, please!" Suddenly he stopped shaking me but his crushing grip remained as strong as ever. "Are you pregnant again?"

I didn't answer as I was more focused on what the back of my skull looked like from his assault. One part of me asked where Al was while the other hoped he didn't come in to see this because I wasn't sure he would be able to keep his promise and stop himself from slaughtering my brother before my very eyes. When I felt my brother release one of my arms I thought maybe he was done, that maybe he realized he was hurting me, and now I could negotiate with him. "Can we just-" A clicking noise interrupted my train of thought, and as I looked down I saw a jagged, pocket knife clutched in one of Chris' large hands. My eyes shot back up to his to catch the desperation that now possessed him and left him in a haze of hatred and despair. "Chris," I whispered. I'd lost count of how many times I said his name, but in this moment I couldn't imagine anything would help me.

Nodding quickly, water being shook from his head he assured me, "It's okay, I'll cut it out."

Rather than scream his name I simply screamed, my voice piercing through the thick air of the bathroom and hopefully reaching downstairs. Where was Al, where was Jack? I didn't care what they did to get Chris off of me at this point; I just wanted him off! "God please stop!"

"Calm down Claire! I'll get it out!" As we struggled in the corner I felt his steel-toe boot bang into my shin while another stomped on my foot. His free hand worked to hold me still but our bare skin was slippery. "Hold still Claire it'll only hurt for a second!"

_He's crazy!_

He lowered the knife in hope that I would stop wriggling against him but I did not cease my resistance. I kicked wildly at his legs, pushing at his arm that was struggling to subdue me, and then I felt it. The pain was so sharp that I stopped crying for him to stop, I stopped struggling against his hold, and he soon noticed.

Impossibly, his eyes grew wider as they fell to my abdomen and his mouth hung open.

Almost fainting from the pain I remembered where the real danger lie and my eyes followed his down to the gushing wound. The running water, his curses and apologies, all of those things became background noise as I watched the drips of water wash away the blood until finally there was none.

He released me, slipping a bit as he stumbled backwards while I sank into the corner. His mouth opened to say something, but before he could get anything out he fell to the floor unconscious.

My world began to swirl and spin around me, everything fell completely silent, and my vision blurred. A black figure came over to pull me up from the shower floor, draping an oversized button-up over my shoulders. I could hear someone speaking but I couldn't make out what they were saying to me and they seemed to notice. They continued to speak, buttoning up the shirt quickly. A pair of hands grabbed hold of my shoulders and I could barely feel it.

"Claire!"

That was Al. Al was here for me.

"We have to go!" he barked.

When I didn't respond I could feel my body floating through the air, the rooms blurring by me. I heard what sounded like Jack and a helicopter's rotors but then I could only see blackness stretching out for what looked like forever…

A/N: Took me all summer but here you go, finally a chapter of lovey-dovey for them I didn't think it was possibly but I managed to make them happy for most of a chapter. Originally I didn't intend for this to be the way Claire and Wesker would have a baby but I forgot what I planned at first and this just works out better with him wanting to marry her and whatnot. Seems more natural, or as natural as things can be with Wesker. Once again I had to snip around here and there because the chapter would've been SUPER long and therefore it wouldn't have been updated. Needless to say I'll have to go back in and fix the parts that are rushed because I also wrote this chapter out of sync. Last I checked the poll there was a tie. One reviewer stated that they couldn't vote so therefore two choices are in fact tied so some more people need to go vote. So vote, review, and I hope you enjoyed. I also want to apologize for the massive number of typos in the last chapter! I gotta fix that! We also get some Chris POV next chapter to show his reaction to finding out and what he also saw when he got there! Ok I'm going to bed now.


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